A Touch of Salt
by mmlr
Summary: Lady Katriona Annesley knew what her duty was to her family; she never questioned its eventuality. Yet when she and her sister Elizabeth are abducted en route from England to visit their father in a ransom bid to finance Nassau's coming war with Britain, her careful notions of duty and obligation are thrown into chaos by a certain gravel-voiced pirate. Vane/Eleanor Vane/OC
1. Chapter 1

"AYE, THERE'S SOME THAT SAYS HE'S a ghost come to seek the souls of those who dare cross his path." Katriona Annesley peeked over the top of her book, finding the lure of such torrid gossip more irresistible than the modestly titled, self-published memoirs of Lord Howell: Nautical Genius of the Century her uncle had provided for her journey. The creeping shadows of twilight had made reading nearly impossible anyway. Unaware of her scrutiny, the sailor leaned against a barrel, his ancient bones creaking in accord with the deck of the Godfrey. His audience consisted of a handful of sailors and Katriona's starry-eyed younger sister Elizabeth. "None's ever seen em and lived to tell of it. Some say only a glance from his evil eye'll skewer you to the deck like a bolt o' lightning. Aye, bold and ruthless is Captain Vane and the crew of The Ranger."

Katriona sniffed back a derisive snort. Captain Vane indeed. This fearsome pirate was beginning to sound like a character in one of the dreadful Gothic novels Lord Elliot's flighty daughter Lydia insisted on reading. One young sailor was of like mind. Katriona wrinkled her nose as he spat a wad of tobacco on the freshly scrubbed deck of the modest frigate. "Balderdash! I heard the stories, too, but I says it's nothin' but rum talkin'. There ain't been true pirates this far north in years" He tilted his hat to a cocky angle, underscoring the brashness of his youth. "This bloke'd be more likely to get his timbers shivered by the His Majesty's Fleet than not."

Knowing her uncle would not have approved either her eavesdropping or interrupting what was meant to be a private conversation, Katriona bit back an agreement. The War of Spanish Succession had lapsed into a tentative truce with the Treaty of The Hague, but the quieter the winds blew from burgeoning Spanish ambitions, the more nervous the Royal Navy became. This Captain Vane would have to be either foolhardy or foolish to put himself in their eager cannon sights. "Not if he truly is a ghost," Katriona's sister whispered, startling Katriona with her precise reply to her musings. "Then he would have nothing to lose. Right?" Smiling despite herself at Lizzy's straightforwardness.

"Now, Katriona," her father admonished from perfect memory, "seafaring men are a superstitious lot, but you're not a girl given to fancy." For once, his chiding voice brought comfort instead of humiliation.

A sailor in a worn peacoat drew a whalebone pipe from his pocket. As he struck a match and touched it to the capped bowl, the flame cast wavering shadows over a face leathered by sun and salt spray. "I seen him," he announced curtly, earning all of their attentions, including Katriona's. "I was on lookout in the foretop on an eve much like this one. There weren't nothin' but sea and sky for miles, then suddenly the sea opened up and out she sailed like a demon ship cast from the bowels o' hell." Katriona suspected her own eyes were now as round as the cabin boy's. "I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. 'Twas as if the very sight o' her froze me blood. Before I could pry me mouth open to shout a warning, they were upon us. I never seen nothin' like it in all me born days." He shuddered. "Never hope to again."

A pall of silence enveloped the men, broken only by the eerie creaking of the spars and the lazy flapping of the sails against the wind. Full dusk had fallen as they spoke. Tendrils of mist came creeping out of the darkening sea like the tentacles of some mythical beast. Katriona saw one of the sailors glance over his shoulder and sign an unobtrusive cross on his breast. As if to banish the spell of foreboding, the men all began chattering at once.

"I heard he brands his victims just like the devil he is."

"Won't tolerate babblin', they says.

"The lass wouldn't stop screamin', so he up and sewed her lips together with sail twine."

"Cleaved the poor bloke in two, he did, with one mighty stroke of his cutlass." The young sailor who had earlier dared to express scorn for the spectral captain wiggled his eyebrows in a mocking leer. "I'll wager that ain't nothin' compared to the cleavin' he does on his lady captives. One o' my mates swears this Captain Vane ravished ten virgins in one night."

"Ha!" scoffed a grizzled tar. "I done as much after seven months at sea and nary a glimpse o' stocking." The young sailor elbowed him in the ribs.

"Aye, but them weren't hardly virgins, was they?" The men roared with laughter.

Katriona reluctantly decided she'd best make her presence known before she or Elizabeth learned more than they ever wanted to know about the romantic foibles of sailors. She extracted herself from her seat of coiled ropes and stepped into full view. The men snapped to flustered attention as if Admiral Sir George Byng, Viscount Torrington himself had marched onto the deck of the ship. Katriona was not impressed. She'd been receiving such welcomes since she'd been old enough to toddle. Her Father's reputation and the fact that her uncle was one of the most influential shipping merchants in the realm had preceded her every step. She favored them with a benevolent smile.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope I haven't interrupted your charming discourse on the merits of piracy." She nodded toward the young sailor, whose tanned skin had flushed a becoming peach. "Do go on, sir. I believe you were about to treat us to more of your speculations on Captain Vane's amorous exploits."

One of his mates cleared his throat meaningfully, and the sailor snatched off his hat, crumpling it into a ball. "M-M-Miss Annesley," he stammered. "Didn't know you were about. 'Twas hardly fit talk for a lady's ears."

"Then I suppose we'll have to string you up from the yardarm, won't we?" The lad's Adam's apple bobbed with obvious distress and Katriona sighed.

For some reason, no one could ever tell when she was joking. She knew that most of her acquaintances suspected she'd been born with no sense of humor at all. She was, however, blessed with a finely honed sense of wit, pity not everyone could appreciate it.

The weathered sailor in the peacoat shoved his way forward as if fearing she might weave a noose of her delicate shawl. "Allow me to escort you to your cabin, Miss Annesley. 'Tisn't safe for a young lady of quality to be roamin' 'bout the deck after dark."

He gallantly offered her his arm, but the patronizing note in his voice struck the wrong chord with Kati. "No, thank you," she said coolly. "I believe I shall take my chances, come along Elizabeth." Tilting her nose to a regal angle and grabbing Lizzy's hand, she sailed past them, ignoring the discordant murmur that rose behind her.

Safely tucked away inside their cabin Kati released her sister's arm. "Why do you always ruin the fun?" Elizabeth whined flouncing into their shared bunk.

"Lizzy you're too young to listen that nonsense."

"Says who? We're on an adventure for goodness sake! Besides, you're not my mother!"

At the mention of their mother Katriona stilled, a brief flash of hurt running through her eyes.

Immediately Elizabeth regretted her harsh words. "I'm sorry Kati," came the tentative reply after a few moments. "I didn't mean to say that."

"It's ok pet," said Kati with a forced smile. "When you're older you can listen to all the lurid tales of gossip from the ton; now it's time for bed."

"Hrmph," was her only reply.

After performing her nightly toilette, Kati crawled into bed beside her snoring sister, gingerly moving tangled limbs and golden curls to make space beneath the worn coverlet. Not blessed with her sister's gift of immediate sleep, Kati opened the page she previously earmarked in Lord Howell's memoirs and began to read.

Hours later, after the fourth attempt to engross herself in the Admiral's accounts of nautical astronomy, Kati closed the book. Listening to the rhythmic breathing that signaled her sister's continued slumber she allowed herself to steal out of bed and wander to the door of their chamber. Looking behind her self-consciously to again check her sister, she turned towards the hall. Some perverse restlessness driving her from the cozy confines of the modest cabin, down the narrow ship's companionway, and toward the deserted stern.

She studied the vast expanse of ocean that stretched out in front of her and every direction, allowing a wistful sign to escape her lips. It was moments such as these, in the quiet, dark hours between dusk and dawn that she allowed to herself to wonder what it would be like to still give into the naïve sense of adventure that ensnared her sister's mind. But no, since mother's death almost twelve years ago there had been no room for those kinds of dreams. Yanking her attention back to the present, Katriona turned her thoughts towards more pressing matters and the reason for their voyage.

Since her mother's untimely death, their father Lord Richard Annesley, third Marquess of Dorset had seldom been home. Though she loved him desperately, the girls saw little of their esteemed father. Except for the few visits at Christmas and the rare gift at birthdays, Kati and Elizabeth seldom laid eyes on him. Therefore, it was their uncle Lord Thomas who had taken them in. Though she was grateful for his protection, it was not the same. It came as a surprise when the previous month their father had written quite unexpectedly that he desired their immediate presence in the Carolinas. While Elizabeth had been elated with the prospect of adventure, Katriona was wise to its reality. She was eighteen after all, and like all young women of the peerage, it was her duty to marry to ensure both her future and Elizabeth's.

She drew her shawl close around her. The brisk wind blowing off the North Atlantic Sea whipped up Kati's skirt and bit through her thin petticoat. But she could bear that discomfort better than being trapped in the cozy confines of her cabin. At the moment its modest space more of a prison than a comfort, a daily reminder that some unknown stretched out before her.

Kati usually found a ship by night soothing to her senses, but the peace she sought drifted just out of her reach, her solitude tainted by a sudden onslaught of restlessness. Even the low-pitched music of male voices working in perfect accord seemed muted and distant. She frowned, licking away the sea salt that flecked her lips. In the rising mist, the sound should carry with the clarity of a ringing bell, but the night was draped in silence as if the sea were holding its breath with her. She strained her eyes, seeing nothing but fog swirling up from the inky darkness and the rising moon flirting with tattered patches of clouds. Chill ribbons of mist coaxed their way through the gauzy muslin of her gown, dampening her bare skin. The sailors' tales of Captain Vane bothered her more than she cared to admit. On such a night it took little imagination to envision a phantom ship stalking the seas. Kati could almost hear the chant of its blood-thirsty sailors out for a prize. She shook off a shiver; such thoughts were ridiculous. She could only imagine what her father would say if he caught her indulging in such whimsy.

She was turning away from the rail to seek the more mundane comforts of her cabin when the veil of darkness parted, and the ghost ship glided into view. Kati's heart slammed into her ribcage, then seemed to stop beating altogether. She clutched the rail, her shawl falling unheeded to the deck. A glimmer of moonlight stole through the clouds as the sleek black bow of the phantom schooner crested the waves, its towering spars enshrouded by mist, its rigging glistening like the web of a deadly spider. Ebony sails billowed in the wind, whispering instead of flapping. The vessel sailed in eerie silence with no lanterns, no sign of life, no hint of mercy.

Kati stood transfixed, mesmerized by a primitive thrill of fear. Although the wind whipped her hair across her face and fed the hungry sails of the phantom ship, she seemed to be standing in a vortex of airlessness. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. It was then that she saw the ship's Jolly Roger rippling from the highest spar— a skeleton, blood red against a sable background, dancing in the gusting wind.

The phantom ship came about with lethal grace. Remembering the sailor's story, Kati pressed her eyes shut, knowing the ship would be gone when she opened them.

Cannon fire blazed against the night sky. Kati's eyes flew open in shock as the ghost ship fired a very earthly warning shot over their bow in the universal demand for surrender.

In that first dazzling burst of light, the name carved on the phantom ship's bow was forever emblazoned in Kati's memory: The Ranger. Hoarse cries of alarm and the stampede of running feet shook the deck of the Godfrey as the panicked crew wavered between battle and surrender. Kati was jerked from her open-mouthed astonishment by a rough hand on her arm. The young sailor who had earlier jeered the mere existence of Captain Vane pulled her away from the rail with a familiarity he wouldn't have dared only moments before.

"You'd best take shelter in your cabin, miss. This looks to get ugly." His bold demeanor could not hide a complexion chalky with terror. Kati found herself dragged into the fray and shoved none too gently toward the main companionway.

"Dear God, Lizzy!" Was her first coherent thought. Obeying without thought, she flew down the narrow passage, thankful for once to be unencumbered by heavy skirts and petticoats. She slammed the door of her cabin behind her and ran to her sister.

"Kati what's going on?" Elizabeth cried stumbling from the bed.

A fresh salvo of cannon fire shuddered the hold. With a shriek Elizabeth launched herself into her sister throwing her arms around her waist and burying her face in her small bosom. Pulling her close Kati clapped her hands over Elizabeth's ears, choking back her frantic scream.

As a child, Elizabeth had once scampered off into the garden in search of fairy's only to plunge through an enormous spider web strung across the path. She had beat at the sticky fibers with her small hands, screaming in terror. Katriona could still remember her father's contemptuous words as he had watched Lizzy sniffle into Kati's bosom while she patiently plucked the tattered web from the younger girl's hair. Katriona had always been the one to protect her younger sister from monsters. This time, it was not the goblin living in the manor well, nor the monster lying in wait underneath the bed. These monsters were flesh and blood and very real.

Elizabeth's face crumpled. "Kati, I'm scared, what's going to happen?" Her wide brown eyes were full of terror. "It'll be alright pet," Kati reassured, terrified herself as she struggled to think. "There are plenty of well-armed men on the ship. You'll see, we'll be safe." Even as she said the words they rang hallow. Half the men looked too young to have seen a real battle and the rest were too old to put up much of a fight against well-armed Pirates.

Kati straightened, they needed something to defend themselves in case it got that far. Spurred to practical action, Katriona rifled through her tidy valise, searching for anything that might serve as a weapon. An ivory-handled letter opener was her only find. She slipped off her shoes so she could move silently if the need arose and tucked the letter opener into one of her stockings. Urging Elizabeth under the small bedstead, she grabbed the low-burning lantern and crouched down beside the bunk to wait. A masculine bellow of terror and the thunder of running footsteps sounded overhead as screams of pain echoed into the night.

Kati gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. "We'll be alright pet, just stay beside me." The wire handle of the lantern bit into her palm. She knew the lantern was useless as a weapon. The dangers of fire aboard a ship had been too deeply ingrained in her since childhood. She would die a gruesome death before hurling the lantern at an attacker.

"We got them?" The question rolled from Captain Vane's lips like the thunder of cannon fire. The deck listed beneath his long, furious strides, but he never stumbled, never faltered, his flawless balance as finely tuned as each of his other senses. "I can't believe the man sent them alone." He swung past the dangling rigging "You're sure they're the daughters of Richard Annesley? Jack if they're not I swear to God…" The lanky brown-haired sailor marching in his wake appeared unaffected by his captain's hanging threat. Only someone who knew him well could stand unaffected by the menace in his gravely bass voice.

"If I'm wrong shall I fetch the cat-o'-nine-tails, Charles so that you can flog me?"

"Don't tempt me," the Captain growled. "I should have left you to hang in Santo Domingo when I had the chance."

Vane ducked his head at the precise moment it would have struck the fore boom and folded his lean frame into the hold. His companion dropped after him, landing with a cat's lithe grace on the pads of his booted feet. The Captain rubbed his chin. "Have you got them together or separate?"

"Separated, the black haired one stabbed Hamund with a bloody letter opener as soon as we walked through the damned door. Spitfire that one. The little blonde one cried quite a bit, but once Hamund threatened to half her sister in two she quieted up her sniffling. The cabin was listed in the ship's log just as Miss. Guthrie said it would be—A-N-N-E-S-L-E-Y-period."

Steering his way through the shadowy hold, he shook his head. "Kill the rest and get underway, with any luck we'll have about three weeks before Annesley gets word and sends the whole Channel Fleet out in force. You get anything else out of her?" "The older one, once we…um…took her sister, she…became a bit more unreasonable. We think she might respond to you best. Besides, you're the one with the reputation for terrorizing innocent virgins."

Vane shot him a dark look as they halted before a door bolted from the outside. "I don't like virgins."

"Even better! You're enough to give any proper young English maiden nightmares." As both men turned towards the door, Jack paused. With a dramatic gesture, he ran his fingers through his shaggy hair and smoothed his cambric shirt.

"Are you going to interrogate her or court her?" Vane growled.

"I haven't decided. Maybe neither. Maybe both. Don't tell Anne."

With an exasperated sigh, Vane lifted the makeshift bolt, unlocked the door, and slipped into the dark room followed closely by Rackham.

Waiting for his eyes to adjust in the dim light, Vane was vaguely aware of the rush of air before pain exploded behind his eyes as something very solid and hefty slammed into the side of his head.

"Fuck," was his first thought before a second stab of pain, this time in the gut, nearly dropped him to his knees.

"Where is my sister!" The feminine yell sounded off the walls of the small chamber.

"Told you she was unreasonable!" Jack yelled from a safe distance.

Vane shook his head to regain his sense. Just as a small arm swung back for a third time, he latched onto the delicate wrist with a vice grip and twisted until a yelp sent whatever hard, offending object she had been holding clattering to the floor. Thinking he had the upper hand, Vane was wholly unprepared for a third onslaught as a bony knee shot up between his legs and caught him in the groin full force eliciting a pained grunt as he doubled over.

"Where!" the feminine voice came again.

Anger, white and coursed through his veins. With a grunt, Vane straightened. Using the full weight of his body, he locked his other hand around the girl's slender throat and slammed her into the nearest wall with enough force to hear the sickening crack as flesh and bone struck solid wood.

His gaze raked her in blunt appraisal. He had been expecting a child. The girl in front of him was most definitely NOT a child and yet not a woman. Oddly enough, it wasn't anything about his captive's size that surprised him, but her stern demeanor and the look in her flashing gray eyes. He had been expecting abject terror or even hysteria, but her flushed cheeks were free of tear stains, her lips were open on an angry gasp, and the eyes that met his were as stormy as any tempest he'd faced. She must be daft, or ignorant at the very least. Had she no sense to be afraid of him, had she not heard the stories of what he did to those that angered him?

Being momentarily deprived of vision from the force of the blow had heightened her other senses. Katriona's ears were tuned to the harsh whisper of air from his lungs. Her nostrils flared at the scent of him— a tangy brew of salt spray, brandy, and the pure spice of male musk. He smelled like the predator he was, and she knew instinctively that if she allowed him to sense her fear, she was done for. She was thankful her initial panic had been swallowed by outrage.

"Where is she? What have you done with her?" Came the retort, weaker this time, but no less irate. He moved to stand directly in front of her, one hand locked around her throat, the other maintaining a bruising grip on her wrist, his silence a blatant challenge. He watched, secretly amused, as a flush of pink crept into the hollows beneath her sharp cheekbones.

Though she would never admit it, Katriona had known she was in trouble the moment this man entered the cabin. She had recognized in the space of a skipping heartbeat that he was not the same man who had abducted her, the lanky man whose hands had been almost gentle as he apologized, his voice melodious and soothing. There was nothing soothing about this man. The very air around him crackled with threat. Kati feared she was in the presence of Captain Vane himself, no phantom but flesh and blood— solid, disturbing, and only inches from her face.

The stranger's gaze seared her cheeks, but she refused to avert her face from his scrutiny. "Your name." She kept her mouth clamped tight. Kati expected he wouldn't be pleased with her response or lack thereof, but she was completely unprepared for the humiliating sting as he pulled back his hand and struck her. "Your name." His husky words were a demand, not a request. Defiant gray eyes met blue as another slap rang out. Her captor was silent for several heartbeats, waiting.

"Lady Katriona Annesley," she finally replied, her only defense the shards of ice dripping from her voice. "But I think under the circumstances, you'd do well to address me as Miss Annesley." His excitement was palpable. Gone was the barely repressed violence, replaced by a ferocious satisfaction she sensed might be even more dangerous to her.

"Well, now Miss Annesley that wasn't so hard was it? Welcome aboard the Ranger." It was then that he released her. His voice was both rough and smooth, like well-aged whiskey steeped in smoke. She suspected its raspy timbre was designed as a threat, but it still sent a shiver of raw reaction down her spine. She prayed he did not see it.

Discreetly rubbing her bruised wrist, her anger made her reckless. "And what pray tell may I have the pleasure of calling you, sir?"

"Captain Charles Vane."

Dear god she bad been right.

"My dear, it's customary to scream and weep when one is abducted by pirates, yet you've done neither. Why is that?" Jack finally broke his silence.

Kati was terrified, but she refused to show her fear. Taking a deep breath and squaring her slender shoulders Kati met Jack's eyes "If I might have gained anything by screaming, I'd have had my sister back with me. It's obvious by the motion of the deck that the ship is at full sail, precluding immediate rescue. And I've never found tears to be of any practical use."

Captain Vane moved in front of her, blocking her view of the other man. If he had touched her then, she feared she would have burst into tears. "And which are you, Miss Annesley? Innocent? Helpless? Or both?"

"I've heard enough about your cowardly tactics to know your favored opponents are innocent sailors plying their trade and those too helpless to warrant your sympathy." At the moment, Kati didn't care to admit that she was afraid he'd embroider a skull and crossbones on her lips.

"How rare. The lanky one spoke then almost to himself, "logic and intelligence wrapped up in such a pretty package. Is your father in the habit of allowing you and your sister to journey alone on a frigate? Young ladies of quality do not travel such a distance unchaperoned."

"Does he care so little for your reputation?" The note in Vane's voice might have been one of mockery or curiosity

Kati almost blurted out that her father cared for nothing but their reputations, but to reveal such a painful truth would have been like laying an old wound bare.

"The Captain's mother was traveling with us." A fat lot of good that had done her or anyone else aboard, Kati thought. "The Captain of the Godfrey works…worked for my father. He's known my sister and I since we were children. I can promise you that should any of the men under his command so much as smile at us in what might be deemed an improper manner; he'd have them flogged."

"Purely for your entertainment, I'm sure." Vane rasped.

Katriona couldn't hold back her retort at the unfair cut. "I fear my tastes in amusement don't run to torture as yours surely do Captain," she replied acidly.

"Touché, Miss Annesley," Jack chuckled despite himself. Feisty this one, he was quite impressed by her audacity.

"Perhaps you're not so helpless after all. If we could only ascertain your innocence with such flair …" Vane let the unspoken threat dangle. She couldn't seem to stop her tart tongue from running rampant. She'd do well to remember that this man held both her life and that of her sister in his hands. Just then she realized that he held power over something else, something far more precious, especially for a woman. His brisk footsteps paced in front of her, weaving a dizzying spell as she struggled to follow his movements with the onslaught of a headache. "Perhaps you'd care to explain why your noble father deprived himself of your charming wit for the duration of your voyage."

"We're to meet him. He saw no logic in journeying halfway across the ocean to only return to his original destination."

"How noble of him," Rackham responded

Vane merely glanced in her direction.

Something flickered behind her eyes. If Vane blinked, he would have missed it. Jack hit a nerve somehow. Interesting.

"So he sent you and your sweet sister off alone then?" Jack continued.

"What do you want with us?" she snapped avoiding Jack's question. "Is our fate to be the same as the men you murdered!"

Vane grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. "Is that what you've heard Miss Annesley? That we're murderers?" She pressed her eyes shut, beset by a curious mix of dread and anticipation.

"Among other things."

"Such as?"

"They say you're a devil," she whispered. He leaned over her and pressed his lips near her ear.

"Maybe I am." The prickly softness of his beard chafed her tender skin. The masculine weight of him permeated her senses. "What say you, Miss Annesley?" His touch was flagrant. It's blatant virility set Kati's raw nerves humming. She'd never been touched with such matter-of-fact familiarity by anyone. Her father prided himself on maintaining a cold reserve, finding physical displays of fondness distasteful. "You are no more a devil than I. Though anyone that derives pleasure from the murder of innocent people deserves a special place in hell." She opened her eyes and looked at him then. "Sir."

He slanted her an unreadable look beneath his generous lashes before backing away from her. His crystalline eyes were the brightest blue she had seen. He chuckled at her then. "Thank you, Miss Annesley you have been most helpful."

Narrowing her eyes, Kati took advantage of his purported indifference to study him. His thick hair was a warm honey brown shade, worn long, hanging well past his impressive shoulders. He was shorter than his companion, yet towered over her by a good six inches. He seemed utterly at home with his size, finding no need to use its power to intimidate or cajole. His countenance might have been called handsome were it not for the once-broken nose, and the jagged scar splitting one eyebrow. He had an oddly tender, expressive mouth for such a rugged visage.

With a nod from Vane, both men turned to leave.

"Wait, please, where is my sister?"

Captain Vane paused for a moment, "you care a great deal about her." It was a statement and not a question.

She met his questioning gaze, "I would do anything for her."

"Let's hope for your sake that it doesn't come to that."

With that they turned and left, locking her inside the tiny room.

"What do you want?" she whispered to the dim.

Kati told Captain Vane that screaming was futile, yet in that moment all she wanted to do was scream. She winced as she brought her fingers to her cheek, noting the swollen flesh. She'd never been struck before and the slap had stung, not only her skin but her pride. She hated this man and she barely knew him.

Katriona hugged herself through her thin nightdress, fighting back a shiver of mingled fear and desperation. She felt as if her flesh was being consumed by a terrible fever—one minute burning, the next chilled to the bone. Her usual calm logic seemed to have betrayed her. What was she going to do? What were they going to do? She thought back to their exchange.

 _"Wait, please, where is my sister?"_

 _"You care a great deal about her." His gaze was questioning._

 _"I would do anything for her."_

 _"Let's hope for your sake that it doesn't come to that."_

What did he mean by that? As Vane's words echoed through her mind, a sudden onslaught of utter helplessness consumed her. From down the corridor she heard a noise. Muffled men's voices and heated shouts. She didn't know what lay beyond that door, yet she knew with a certainty beyond mere female intuition that her life was about to change. She could sense it, feel it, like an inescapable shadow cast over her soul. Her weary gaze immediately shot to the woodened door, stealing herself for another encounter. She pulled herself to her feet, determined to show no fear. She didn't want to believe that monsters walked the earth. But this man was as close to any she could imagine. Yet she would not fear them. The stories were only stories. These men were made of flesh and blood just as she. Pressing a hand to her brow, she closed her eyes. She would figure a way out of this. She could. She would. She didn't have any other choice. Kati slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. The hall was quiet, the room remained dark. No one was coming. Slowly she sunk back to the hard floor. With a trembling sigh she closed her eyes, shutting out the events of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

WARNING M CONTENT AHEAD!

Once the men were on the other side of the door Vane turned to Jack throwing him a murderous scowl.

Jack immediately threw up his hands in defense, "I told you she was difficult!"

"Yes thank you for that."

Jack chuckled, "I rather like her. I've only known one other woman willing to speak to you like that."

Vane flashed him a warning look.

"Speaking of Miss Guthrie did she give any indication of what we were to do once we had the Annesley sisters?"

"Back to Nassau."

"Pardon me Charles but is that…wise? Their father and uncle are bound to realize within the fortnight that they are missing. Do we really want to rain royal hell down on our heads that quickly?

"Jack…" Vane growled. At the moment he was not in the mood to be questioned. Vane was loathed to admit it, but his head and groin hurt like hell and all he wanted at the moment was some peace and quiet.

"Right," Jack took the hint. "I'll inform Jacobs," and with an elegant swish he was off.

Vane made his way towards his cabin. Once inside he let out an exasperated sigh, he hoped Eleanor had been right about all this. Taking a swig of brandy he settled himself into his chair, letting his mind wander… 

_It was messy with them. It always had been and always would be. Messy and violent. Every time they came together it was like a storm finally break upon the shore. Two forces colliding, each relentless pounding, hurting pushing, trying to break the other. Neither willing to show weakness, neither willing to fall first._

 _But when it was over…when each lay spent together, in those moments, he was able to make sense of it all._

 _He tried to keep his breathing steady as he shifted, loathed to wake her. She had something important to tell him, something she insisted on, yet they had only gotten three steps inside of his tent before they crashed against each other. Whatever she wanted to tell him would have to wait._

 _He had no complaints._

 _After a moment she began to stir, one hand flexing against his chest. He would never tell her, never admit it, but he loved watching her sleep._ _She carried the weight of her ambitions with her every moment of every day. It was only in the embrace of sleep that they lifted._

 _She really did look like an angel. If he told her, she'd probably kill him. The thought brought a small smile to his lips._

 _As he was well aware, nothing lasted forever._

 _She shifted again, pulling her head off of his shoulder blinking the sleep from her eyes. He knew she hadn't meant to stay. She never did._

 _"I have a business proposition for you." There. There was the Eleanor he knew. The calculating business women, the ambitious little girl eager to prove herself the son she never would be._

 _He let a lazy grin spread across his face as he gently pulled her into his lap. "I rather liked our earlier discussion," he said brazenly rubbing a knee between her thighs to emphasize his point._

 _She was not deterred. Coming to a sitting position, she straddled his thighs, unabashed in her nakedness. "What if I told you that with one prize we could earn enough money to ensure the protection of Nassau?"_

 _Vane chuckled, "I'd say you were daft," he said letting his hands roam to her hips in an attempt to urge her forward._

 _With a frown she bat his hands away, "Charles I'm serious."_

 _"So am I," he said threading his fingers through her hair, yanking her down for a bruising kiss. Business could wait. He wasn't ready to relinquish this moment. Not yet._

 _In one quick move she was under him again, his hips nestled between her thighs. She didn't even have a chance to breathe before he was inside her. She didn't control this. She didn't control him._

 _"Fuck!" She screamed unprepared for the onslaught._

 _He pushed against her, drove against her, trying to prove to himself but most of all to her that he was in control. Her lips bit him, her nails tore at his skin, but he was relentless. Eliciting sounds from her that would make a seasoned of whore blush. Tearing her hands from his body, he manacled them above her head in a vice grip._

 _He was in control._

 _Her breath hitched, and she began to thrash against him signaling that she was close. Still he refused to relent. A litany of curses fell from her lips as her body began to tremble._

 _He would make her beg._

 _He brought a hand to her knee lifting it above his shoulder as he continued to push into her. The deeper angle elicited a scream from her that he was sure half the beach could hear. The thought made him chuckle. Her eyes flew open. "Fuck you Charl…" The retort earned her a deeper thrust._

 _She would beg._

 _He would make her._

 _She was close, he knew she was._

 _Using his free hand, he reached between their joined bodies. With the pad of his thumb he gently caressed her. That was all it took. Immediately her back arched her eyes squeezed shut, a look halfway between pain and pleasure frozen on her face. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of sensation._

 _He would make her beg._

 _With her arms manacled above her head and her body completely open to him she had no choice. He continued to push into her as his thumb caressed her. Urging her, forcing her again. Once. Twice. Three times her body tensed and exploded beneath him. Each time her cries became more desperate. Each time he held out._

 _"Charles I…I…can't…" She was so close she felt dizzy._

 _He couldn't take much more. Releasing her hands, he gripped her hip holding her to him, forcing her to meet him thrust for thrust. She threw her arms around his neck, her lips grazing his ear. "Charles…"_

 _She would say it. She had to._

 _His body ached. His muscles burned. He was so close to his release._

 _"Please…"_

 _There it was. Barely above a whisper. That small plea._

 _Burying her face in his neck, she bit him hard. Punishing him for making her say it._

 _The pain mixed with the pleasure did it. With a roar he exploded into her as her body shook for a fourth time beneath him._

 _They collapsed in a sweaty tangle of limbs panting hard. Neither spoke._

 _It was some time later that he felt her leave. The ease with which she slipped from his side still sometimes surprised him. He tried to keep his breathing even, feigning sleep._

 _She wouldn't stay. She never did. That was the way it was with them. They fought, they fucked, and they pushed. Neither willing to admit their feelings. Never wanting to be the first._

 _Once she was gone Vane brought a hand to his neck, gingerly touching the spot where she had bit him. As his fingers grazed the area, he winced slightly. There would be a mark. Of course there would be. Was he surprised? She would be angry with him tomorrow, of that he had no doubt. Angry that he had gotten her to admit it. To beg for him, to plead. She hated that. Hated showing weakness, hated not being in control. That was the story of them. Neither willing to admit their feelings, secretly hating the other for revealing otherwise._

A sharp rap on his door yanked him back to the present and out of his musings.

"Enter," he yelled.

Vane took a final swig from the bottle before turning to acknowledge his quartermaster. "What now?" he asked with a raised brow. Jack wasn't looking forward to this exchange.

"Well you see Charles, I was wondering if it might be prudent that we make accommodations so that…"

"What Jack, out with it!"

"Right, erm…are we feeding them?"

"What?" Vane wasn't prepared for the question.

"Feeding them. The Annesley sisters?"

Vane just started at him, the thought honestly hadn't crossed his mind.

"We're almost a month from Nassau and we can't starve them," Jack continued.

"Yes, fine. See to it."

"Right."

"Anything else?" Vane inquired, sending Jack a sardonic look.

"Ah, no."

"Good. Get the fuck out."

"Jesus," Vane muttered running a hand over his face. He hoped to God that Eleanor was right about the payoff. It was only a few hours in and already he was getting a headache.

Kati sat against the wall directly opposite the door with her knees huddled to her chest. She had no idea how long she had slept, the ever present darkness depriving her of any sense of time. She had already circled the whole room seven times. She tried the door, the lock, felt along every crevice, nook and cranny trying to glean some useful bit of information. There was no way out that was for certain, but even if there had been where would she go? She preferred not to dwell on the thought. Her search hadn't been utterly fruitless however as she had discovered a few things about her present location. The sway of the ship was relatively minimal, which lead her to believe that she was probably somewhere near the deck. She could not hear men's voices which meant that she wasn't anywhere near the bunks, nor the kitchens, nor easy access to the main stairs. She discovered on her second search around the room that she was in an area about twice the length of a cabin, probably used for storage owing to the coils of rope, odd barrels and what felt like flour strew across a stretch of the floor.

There was only so much a square wooden box could reveal. Now she had nothing to do but wait. Before long, the gentle rocking of the ship had almost lulled her to sleep again. To keep her eyes open Kati began to hum. The words were slow to come, but eventually with the passage of each note they drifted back to her. 

_Here's a health to you bonny Kellswater_

 _Where you get all the pleasures of life_

 _Where you get all the fishing and fowling_

 _And a bonny wee lass for your wife._

It was a familiar tune, one she often heard the cooks sing through the open kitchen windows. Her voice was quiet at first but gaining confidence with each note. 

_Oh it's down where yon waters run muddy_

 _I'm afraid they will never run clear_

 _And it's when I begin for to study_

 _My mind is on him that's not here._

Someone was singing. Jack's steps faltered as the distant melody drifted to his ears, slow and haunting and sweet. It was singing and a female voice at that. A sound Jack hadn't heard in a long time. 

_And it's this one and that one may court him_

 _But if any one gets him but me_

 _It's early and late I will curse them_

 _The parting lovely Willy from me._

Jack leaned against the doorjamb for a long time, content just to listen as the dusky alto recounted each of the sad lines. Most of the songs he was used to hearing were sung by raucous male voices recounting notions not quite as noble as lost love. He stood in the dim hall and listened to that ghostly echo. 

_Oh a father he calls on his daughter_

 _Two choices I'll give unto thee_

 _Would you rather see Willie's ship a'sailing_

 _See him hung like a dog on yonder tree._

 _Oh father, dear father, I love him_

 _I can no longer hide it from thee_

 _Through an acre of fire I would travel_

 _Along with the lovely Willie to be..._

Was it her imagination or what she heard something? She waited, then came the unmistakable turn of the lock. In an instant she was on her feet. However, the sudden light piercing the gloom momentarily blinded her. Blinking rapidly her eyes slowly adjusted to reveal the lanky pirate once more.

Her gaze immediately narrowed.

"Don't worry I come in peace," he said holding up one hand in a bid at truce, a genuine smile gracing his thin lips.

Kati was skeptical. He wasn't Captain Vane, but he was still a pirate. "What do you want?"

"There are so many things really, where do I even begin?"

Kati simply stared, nonplussed by his attempt at humor.

Jack smiled ruefully after a moment, "to start, only for you to eat. Here." As he stepped fully into the room, the man produced a metal plate with a chunk of bread, a small slab of cheese and a steaming bowl of soup.

Kati was dumbfounded, staring from the plate to the man then back to the plate again.

Jack chuckled at her expression. "We weren't going to starve you, here."

Kati took the offering wordlessly.

"It's not the fare that you're used to I'm quite sure, but its food."

"Thank…thank you…I…" She honestly didn't know what to say.

"I'm Jack, by the way, Jack Rackham." He swept her a dramatic bow.

Despite herself Kati smiled.

Earning another from Jack, "well then Miss Annesley I bid you goodnight."

"Wait!"

His stopped midstride, turning in a swish of colorful silks to face her once more, "Yes?"

He had her full attention, "please, where is my sister Elizabeth? Is she alright?"

Jack bit the inside of his lip as his forehead creased in a frown. He could efficiently handle many dire situations. The bloody fray of battle, the threat of the hangman's noose, even their Captain's volatile temper. Yet, faced with a woman in distress, he was hopeless. For a moment Jack teetered on the edge of indecision. However, one look into her somber eyes and his resolve broke like a poorly constructed dam. "She is well, or as well as can be expected given the circumstance."

Kati's entire body tensed. "Given the circumstance? What circumstance?"

Oh no. She was even more distressed! He could see it on her face plain as day. "Oh no. No. No. What I mean...that is..." He took a breath, "what I mean to say is that no harm has come to her." Jack's flush stained his high cheekbones, it was a wonder Anne put up with him.

Her body immediately relaxed, as though some great weight had lifted off her shoulders.

Jack congratulated himself. That had worked somewhat.

"Thank you." For the moment, that was enough.

He offered her a small nod. "Oh, and Miss Annesley" he was half turned to leave.

"Yes?"

"You do have quite a lovely singing voice," then he was gone, taking the light with him.

The song Kati sings in this chapter is an old Irish tune called Kellswater. The best rendition, in my opinion, is by the Canadian songstress Loreena McKennitt and can be found on youtube here: watch?v=qwWJjAwb524


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story! Its wonderful to know that people enjoy this story. Also, I know that appears to have eaten the comments, but I have still managed to get them via email! I have this whole story more or less outlined and it will approximately 20-25 chapters. I'm sorry if things seem to be moving a bit slow, but its important to me to establish characters with depth that are as close to canon as possible.**

The days continued in relatively the same fashion, the passage of time marked only by Rackham's arrival with what she came to learn was dinner. Each night he brought some variation on the night before, and each night he stayed to speak with her a little longer. She quickly realized that Jack Rackham was as free with his wit as he was with his words. She learned that they were headed to Nassau and had been for almost seven days. She learned that Jack was the Captain's first mate. She learned there was a woman amongst their crew, who must have meant something to Jack because each time he spoke of her he did so with the same odd little smile on his face. She learned that Elizabeth was in much the same situation as she, receiving the same rations from this woman. From his words it seemed that she was neither a servant nor a slave, but an equal. The notion surprised her as it was almost unheard of in a world dominated by men. She learned all these things, though the most important of all had been by pure chance.

Bracing both elbows on his knees, Jack let out a gusty sigh. "So tell me Miss. Annesley, how fairs that oafish king of yours?" He inquired one evening several days later as the two sat on the floor of the small storage space. They had formed an uneasy friendship. She still didn't trust Jack Rackham, but he was kind and clearly as interested in learning about her as she was in learning about him.

"What is it about our King that interests you so sir? It's the third time in as many days that you've inquired." Her confusion was plainly evident in her voice.

"Curiosity I suppose, though I must confess that your country's willingness to turn the reins of power over to a fat Protestant fop who can't speak a word of the lord's English quite baffles me," he confessed.

"Mr. Rackham, you say 'your' country as though your number is decidedly lacking in this count? Are you not an Englishman yourself?"

Rackham threw back his head with a hoot of laughter, looking so much like a boyish young sailor that Kati almost forgot her companion counted himself a pirate. "I madam most certainly do not, for I have no desire to sacrifice both life and limb for a man who sits upon his ass thousands of miles away from the spit of land that I currently call home."

She frowned, dismayed by his cynicism. "But how can you say such a thing? Why, was it not the king himself that granted you license as privateer?"

"You astonish me anew, Miss Annesley! Who would have thought the heart of a loyalist beat beneath your breast?"

"I take it that you are not a Georgian Tory then?" Kati murmured.

"Indeed I am not. Georgie has power simply because those that consider themselves under his dominion believe he does. I am not under his dominion and ascribe to the particular belief that he does not. Besides I find myself unable to support a king with such atrocious taste in a mistress. His pick of all the women in the country and he brings over his great German goose." Jack shuddered visibly.

"So I see that even Nassau is not removed from the reach of London gossip, especially where it concerns the bedroom whiles of our King. But more to the point, one cannot simply believe they reside outside the bounds of the law and through that belief make it so."

"Can they not?" Jack inquired blinking incredulously. "I call myself pirate and here I sit."

He could almost hear her pondering his words.

Jack chuckled. "And yet we are not so distant as to miss a good bit of gossip, although I confess that I am rather starved for some civilized company myself."

"You don't consider pirates civilized company then?" She inquired with a delicately arched brow.

He took a bite from the apple in his hand. "Humor me, why don't you, as I find myself to be engaged in civilized discourse with a lady at this very moment."

"Very well," she laughed. "Although civilized may be a stretch," glancing down to examine her tattered cotton nightdress and dirty feet. "What is it you wish to know?"

"Tell me, are all fair English roses as engaging as yourself?"

Kati laughed.

"Miss Annesley I am rather perplexed by one such as yourself."

Kati bit back a smile. "Is it quite a shock for you to learn that a woman could possess a mind as keen and discerning as your own?"

"Indeed it was," he admitted, his tone informing her that he wasn't completely oblivious to her sarcasm. "One woman in particular taught me such a lesson and in a manner I will not soon forget."

"How very magnanimous of her."

Jack continued nonplussed, "I had never dreamed a woman's mind could be so layered or so fascinating. My mother and sisters were rarely engaged by anything more stimulating than the latest snippet of gossip from the Stamford Assembly Rooms or the most recent fashion plates smuggled from Paris."

"I beg your pardon, but did you say Stamford?" Kati probed, taken aback by his matter-of-fact pronouncement of familiarity with the noted London social assembly.

Rackham arched an eyebrow. "I've surprised you."

Kati averted her eyes guiltily.

"You may be amazed Miss Annesley. Most of the men aboard this ship come from the streets, a few are slaves and some pressed men, yet quite a few come from the middle classes. Take myself for example," he said swishing his hands in a dramatic gesture. "My father was a merchant, a respected member of the gentility. Well, at least until poor fortunes and poorer partners took hold." He glanced at her then, gauging her reaction.

She began worrying her lower lip, "Prior to our meeting I never gave much thought to the notion of what drives a man to piracy."

Rackham frowned in bemusement, readjusting himself on the floor. "Everyone has a past, yet men turn to piracy for a number of reasons. Some to seek their future. Some to run from it. Some want to make a name for themselves, while others hope to lose the name to which they were born." He was silent for a long moment, a faraway look in his eye. "The one thing we share, above all else, is the desire to be free. Beholden to none. No king, no country. The ability to do as we please."

They were both silent for a long moment.

"What I mean," she said inexplicably wanting to explain herself to the pirate in front of her. "What I mean to say is that I realize that all men come from somewhere and each has a motivation for the choices they make. Yet, to give up everything, friends, family a home…" she left the sentence to hang in the air.

"Well then I suppose then the determination depends on your notion of family."

Kati jerked her gaze back to Rackham's face.

He brushed an untidy lock of brown hair out of his eyes as he made to rise. "And it is with that that I bid you adieu." As was his custom he swept her a gentile bow before departing.

Kati remained on the floor, her back pressed against the wall pondering their conversation.

 _The steps creaked with each of his steps. She had summoned him three days ago like a queen from her high castle, so naturally he had made her stew in her castle a while longer. She delayed a full week before sending Mr. Scott to inform him of her request. He knew she would be mad after their last time, it was her way of making him pay._

 _Vane smirked to himself, it had been worth it._

 _Without hazarding a knock he pushed his way through the large oak door and sauntered into the room slamming the door behind him. Eleanor glanced up and merely raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearance. She had been expecting him. Behind her large desk and secure in her massive wooden chair she really did look the part of the queen._

 _Depositing himself into a chair he crossed both ankles up on her desk. "You summoned me?" His tone was mocking as he draped one muscular arm over the back of the chair, stretching himself out like some large, lazy cat._

 _She slowly rose and crossed to the sideboard to pour herself a glass of Madeira. She was angry with him, but couldn't hid the smirk that briefly touched her lips. He really was insufferable._

 _"I have something to discuss with you."_

 _A snort escaped him, "evidently."_

 _She continued, pointedly ignoring his mockery. "When we spoke last I told you of a prize large enough to ensure the safety of Nassau."_

 _"I don't remember there being much…conversation…the last time,"_ _he said raking her slender figure with such a suggestive glance of appraisal that she would have had every right to slap him had she been so inclined._ _A lesser woman would have been intimidated, but Eleanor's cool gaze never wavered._

 _Seeing he would get no rise from her Vane scoffed, "this again?"_

 _Crossing the room she came to stand directly in front of him, jerking his feet from the table. "Charles listen to me, we have an opportunity to secure a future here."_

 _Frowning, Vane settled back into his chair crossing his ankles once more. "I never agreed to be a part of this."_

 _She began to pace back and forth in front of him—her angry strides carrying her precisely four steps forward and four steps back. "Money is tight right now and the Walrus crew are unwilling to extend themselves more than is strictly necessary to achieve their own ends. There are not enough funds to secure what is needed to ensure there are enough provisions to do what is necessary when England decides to come knocking at our fucking door!"_

 _"You went to Flint with this first?"_ _His voice deadpanned._

 _She froze. For a moment her direct gaze faltered. "If you're to know of this I need to be sure that I can trust you."_

 _Her words stung more than he cared to admit. So he was right then. "Tell me" he asked after a moment, "why is it that you see such an ally in him, and such a villain in me?"_

 _She reached up absently to finger the gold pendant around her neck before continuing, "There is no reason for you to feel threatened by my partnership with him. I'm not blind to Flint, I know his faults, but at least he can see the value in protecting this place."_

 _Vane surged to his feet, anger, irritation, and frustration finally getting the best of him. "You spend enough time on an island, you forget there's a whole world out there." He slammed both his palms down on either side of her, rattling the goblet of Madeira. "It's just sand Eleanor!"_

 _Her voice was soft as she met his gaze, "This spit of sand is all that I know."_

 _There was the briefest hint of vulnerability in her voice. It reached out to him, urging a protectiveness within him that even after all these years he was unable to ignore. Vane blew out a sigh fraught with exaggerated patience before taking a step backward putting distance between them once more._

 _She needed him and despite his wary stillness he hadn't left the room. She knew she had him, at least for the moment. "…so here's what I've done. As you know my father has associates from here to the Carolinas."_

 _"He's a shit," Vane interjected "and yet a resourceful man."_

 _Eleanor threw him a thinly veiled look of annoyance before continuing, "Word has reached him that Lord Richard Annesley, third Marquis of Dorset has sent for his daughters to join him directly in South Carolina."_

 _He turned fully toward her, "and two British chits help you how exactly?"_

 _Eleanor rolled her eyes, "Lord Annesley is one of the richest men in England. I propose that we see just how much of those riches he would be willing to part with to ensure that his daughters safely reach the Carolinas."_

 _A snort escaped him. "I was under the impression that you were attempting to evade England's presence. Abducting the daughters of such a man will have likely ensure the opposite result."_

 _At having her plan mocked like an obstinate three-year-old, Eleanor scowled._ _"He has two daughters, one he more than likely wishes to marry off. Do you honestly believe that one the richest men in England will want to advertise that he couldn't protect his own daughters? Besides, if the one is of marriageable age do you really believe that he would want it known that she spent time unchaperoned aboard a ship with a crew of pirates? She would be ruined and any hope of a suitable marriage would be lost."_

 _His lips quirked as if amused by the simple straightforwardness of such a plan. He cupped her cheeks in his palms, his fraudulent tenderness making her shiver with perverse yearning. "Are you fucking insane?"_

 _Eleanor's chin had come up, her spine stiffened. Her eyes glittered with mute challenge. "Maybe it was good that I brought this to Flint first."_

 _Jesus she could be vicious when compelled. She was trying to hurt him he knew. It was what she did when she was angry. She boldly defied anyone and everyone to achieve her own ends._

 _She ran a fingertip lightly along his cheek in a mocking caress. For a moment, Vane couldn't have said whether she was trying to shame or seduce him. Her glance was reproving, but her faint pout hinted at sultry promise. He struggled to cling to his anger. Rational anger at her stinging words. Irrational anger at her foolish plan. Surprised by the intimacy of her touch, he caught her hand in his, drawing it down between them. "Every man is master of his own fate! Why are being such a fucking coward!" She quickly tugged it out of his grasp, the briskness returning to her voice. Her eyes were cold and hard._

 _Vane reached for her, his hand closing over the soft part of her upper arm through the wool of her sleeve. He tugged her around to face him._ _Vane gently brought a finger to her cheek, running the pad of his thumb along her soft skin. He knew the way shadow and light played over every beautifully sculpted plane and hollow of her face. He knew the tantalizing hint of a dimple in her slender jaw. The way her face lit up when she smiled and the way her smile carried to her eyes. "God you can be a bitch."_

 _"Fuck you Charles!"_

 _The men who served under his command would have never dared to speak to him in such a manner, yet Eleanor Guthrie was never one to follow orders. "Make no mistake about it, whatever future this place has left, I'm it."_

 _"This island won't have a future if we don't do something to ensure it," she yelled shoving roughly at his chest._

 _There was a fire in her eyes. She would do anything for that lonely strip of sand. Sometimes he wondered just how much. When the time came how much would Eleanor Guthrie sacrifice to ensure the safety of Nassau. At the moment Vane didn't want to hazard a guess. "Alright Eleanor I'm listening."_

Vane clenched the forward rail and braced his legs against the swell of the waves, savoring the sensation of being master of all he surveyed. After weeks spent careening The Ranger on Nassau, it was a heady feeling, intoxicating, to be at sea once more. Undaunted by the winter chill and the ponderous gloom of gray seas meeting pewter-tinted skies, he sucked a breath deep into his lungs, hoping it might purge him of the restless marring his mind. His first mistress would always be the sea. She baptized him in her invigorating spray and pressed her salty kiss against his lips. His years of captivity, spent slaving under the burning Bahamian sun, yet taunted by the nearby chant of the ocean, had only sharpened his craving for her open arms. His physical scars were fading, but the deeper mental scars of his imprisonment remained, carved when madness had gnawed like rats in the dark at the frayed edges of his reason.

 _"Every man is master of his own fate."_

Vane's knuckles clenched at the echo of Eleanor's words. She had a lot of fucking nerve. She'd never had her fate snatched from her hands and given into the hands of others. Cruel hands. Merciless hands. Hands that quenched the light and left him chained in filth and darkness. When Eleanor had strode toward him so gallantly he had put his hands on her, but almost hadn't trusted himself to do so. His hunger for her would cloud his judgement. He hadn't trusted himself to test the boundaries that would result from the dangerous shift of power that would occur if he admitted his reasons for helping her.

He wondered if some residual insanity had prompted him to finally agree to her plan. A free Nassau, independent of British rule. It would have been far simpler to leave notions of glory and independence to the likes of Flint, yet she had swayed him. Her passionate drive and determine swept over anyone in her path. He had resisted, yet when he finally agreed to hear her out she had whispered his name and came to him, her soft weight becoming his own, he'd been seized by a fierce surge of possessiveness, a primitive masculine response more suited to a cave dweller than a ship's captain. He wanted to protect her, to stand by her side and help her accomplish her dreams. Yet her words still gnawed at him like the biting sting of wind off the frigid North Atlantic.

" _I need to know that I can trust you…."_

His smoldering eyes searched the mist-shrouded horizon, but not even the tempestuous charms of the distant billows couldn't soothe him. Too soon, that horizon would be studded with a fleet of Royal Navy ships, their rows of cannons trained on that small island. He'd risked his ship, his crew, and his life, all for nothing more than the opportunity to make Eleanor Guthrie's dreams manifest. How much more would he have to pay?

He didn't turn around when Jack padded out of the shadows beneath the fo'c'sle. "The sea is a fickle mistress is she not, don't you agree Charles?" His quartermaster's melodious voice was underscored by the rhythm of the islands. Jack knew Vane had something on his mind. You didn't spend nearly fifteen years sailing with a man without learning his moods, even a man as private as Charles Vane. As far as the men knew their recent interception of the Godfrey had been a chance encounter while hunting off the New England coast, only he and Anne were privy to their true purpose in sailing that far North.

Vane shot him a dark look. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The serenity of Jack's features was disturbed by a faint wince. "The sea is an enticing mistress, beautiful, and yet deadly. She calls men to her with a promise of freedom and the lure of adventure yet her moods are fickle and can just as easily dash them upon the rocks."

Vane narrowed his eyes as he scanned the far horizon. "You have something to say, out with it," he growled.

"Charles you haven't a repentant bone in your body, but once you've committed to such an errand such as this, there is not much to be done in the way of negation."

Vane wedged a hand through his hair, his own doubts tempering his frustration. He was trying to see the bigger picture.

"I understand your feelings, but humbly I fear you may be questioning your more recent actions and had you more time to consider the consequences of such a course decided to follow a less…antagonistic method of achieving such desired ends." One of the qualities that made Jack such an invaluable sailor was his instinctive knowledge of when to retreat.

"Tell me, Captain," he asked, revealing the white of his teeth, "is she truly worth any cost?"

A bitter smile slanted Vane's lips, for he intimately knew the 'she' to which Rackham referred.

When he turned away from the horizon, Jack was regarding him with the same curious mixture of amusement and empathy he'd shown on the night he'd discovered his friend nursing a broken nose the first night they'd sailed together under the black many years before. Much had changed in those fifteen years, yet Charles's stubborn determination in the face of insurmountable odds left a certain amount to be desired. Jack hazarded a grin, apparently unruly sailors did not offer enough of a challenge, now his captain was desirous of taking on an empire.

Vane stabbed a menacing finger at Jack's colorful, scarf covered chest. "I've killed more men than I can count, I would hate to add you to their number." At six feet, Vane was nearly half a foot shorter than his quartermaster, but that didn't stop him from taking a hasty step backward. Charles moods were as mercurial as the sea, yet Jack knew his words had touched a raw nerve.

A shape shifted just over Jack's right shoulder. Slowly emerging from the shadows. Vane knew who it was without sparing a glance. She was always there. A somber counterbalance to Jack's flamboyant charisma. Though Vane had known Anne Bonny almost as long as he'd known Jack. There was something that crackled between the pair, a bond that no one could understand. At times each seemed an extension of the other.

Unconcerned she stepped between them, dismissing Vane's temper with casual disregard. "You need to do something about the little one. She keeps asking for her sister."

Vane continued to glare at Jack for a moment before shifting his attention to the small red haired woman. "What?" He asked clearly confused by the shift in conversation.

Anne rolled her eyes, indifferent to her Captain's confusion, "the little one, she keeps crying and won't eat until she sees her older sister."

"And just what the fucking hell am I supposed to do about that then?"

Anne and Rackham exchanged a glance before Jack shrugged. "After taking such pains to relieve them from their father's protection, it would be a bit ill-mannered to let the little one die of either starvation or loneliness."

Vane knew Jack wasn't as nonchalant as he appeared to be. The pair had developed an affection for the captive sisters. It hadn't gone unnoticed that Jack took longer and longer each evening to deliver the elder one's food. He had expressly forbidden contact between his men and the sisters. The simple fact being that two young, innocent women on a ship out at sea for any amount of time presented a temptation that few in his crew had the desire to battle.

"Fine. Take the older one to see her sister."

Jack offered an unaffected smile. "I like being second. It spares me the difficult decisions."

Anne smirked, shaking her head at her lover's absurdity.

Vane paused, "after she sees her sister bring her to me."

"Charles?" Jack asked, throwing his Captain a panicked look.

Vane raised an eyebrow as if challenging him to continue. "Yes?"

"Perhaps this isn't the most opportune time…"

"She'll dine with me tonight."

"Right…she'll dine…with you...tonight" Jack queried, repeating each word checking to make sure he'd heard his captain correctly and hadn't in fact gone mad.

"Is that a problem?"

"Ah, no."

"Good. And Jack, Fuck off."

After Vane left the deck Rackham sank down heavily beside Anne. Drawing a colorful handkerchief from his trouser pocket, he mopped at his damp brow before shooting her a regretful look. "Am I the only one who believes that this is a decidedly bad idea?"

Without hazarding him a glance Anne simply pulled out a worn pewter flask and took a long swallow, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Good, I'm glad we agree." Jack's lips curved into a smile as he relished in her assenting silence. "On second thought I may need some of that myself."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello lovely readers! I'm sorry for the delay in posting this most recent chapter. With exams, family, and starting a new internship life has been a bit crazy, so thank you for sticking with me! I promise I have not forgotten about this story. The next time there will not be such a lag between chapters and as always I love reviews!_

Kati found little solace in solitude. Captivity maddened her, making her want to shed the frustrated tears she so bravely disavowed a mere week before. She paced the small room like a bird beating against the bars of its cage, trying her best to keep from bashing her naked shins on the various grain barrels as she strode back and forth across the dark room. Kati struggled to keep her mind a careful blank, but as the days and hours wore on, the effort made her head ache. She hastened her steps, knowing she should be thankful she wasn't chained to the wall. As she swung around to glare into the gloom, a sudden pang of grief seized her at the thought of Elizabeth left alone to similar dark thoughts. Worse yet, for once she realized that she was wholly unprepared to protect her little sister from what lay ahead. The creak of the main door opening thankfully startled her from her wayward thoughts.

"Miss Annesley," Rackham said offering her a gallant bow.

"Mister Rackham? Is it time for dinner already?" She asked touching a hand to her brow. "It's surprising, but I have a far greater appreciation for the insanity felt by those in Newgate," she muttered to herself.

"Ahem, no. The Captain has seen fit to allow you the opportunity to visit your sister. She seems in low spirits, and he believes that seeing you would lift them considerable."

Kati look at him startled, doubting her ears. Had she heard him correctly? "What?"

Jack shot Kati a bemused glance. "This way!" he shouted in a jaunty bellow, ushering her out of her makeshift cell.

Kati caught his brightly colored sleeve as he slid past her.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For your kindness," she quietly replied.

He awkwardly cleared his throat before covering her hand briefly with his own. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Annesley."

Once outside she followed him through what seemed an endless maze of twists, turns and stairs until they reached a narrow hall that appeared to run the length of the large vessel. "Not to worry, it's just ahead!" As the two rounded a particularly dark corner, Kati suddenly slammed into a very meaty, very sweaty lump of flesh. Letting out a startled shriek she made to jump back, but not before two beefy hands shot out to wrap firmly around her slender waist.

"Oi Rackham," a voice drawled, "what do 'e have 'ere?"

Venturing a look at the voice's owner, Kati examined the man in front of her. Dirty blond hair stuck out in uneven tufts framing a gaunt face with cruel black eyes assessing her like a prized piece of meat.

"Move aside Hawkins," Jack directed, his voice losing all of its earlier playfulness and taking on a slight edge.

Kati wiggled in the man's grasp, intent on extricating herself from his clammy grip. "Take your hands off me. I—"

"What 'a lovely English Rosie. Ah, was wonderin what the Capt'n was bein so secretive bout," the man leered, a hint of an Irish accent burnishing each of his words. "Stealin 'er away to enjoy yerself eh? Canna say I blame ya!" To emphasize his point he gave her a harsh squeeze.

His words sent tendrils of ice curling through her veins. "I said, let me go!" To punctuate her words she drove the heel of her foot hard into the man's shin. Letting out a throaty grunt he reflexively let her go. Kati automatically took a step back as Jack's hand flew out and caught her elbow perfectly on cue. His grip was firm as he yanked her towards him.

"Oi! A feisty one eh? I wager she'll fight like a tiger when I sink ma teeth into 'er."

"On your way Hawk."

"Well Rosie when you get tired a' Calico here, come find ole' Hawk, I'll wager I can learn ye a thing or two a' do with those dainty hands o' yers." With a final leering once-over the man sauntered off in the opposite direction.

As soon as he disappeared, Kati shoved away from Rackham. "Am I to be manhandled by every man on this god forsaken ship?"

"There's quite a few of us that you have yet to meet, however, be that as it may, I might suggest you defer such acquaintances until such a time as you are," his eyes briefly scanned her form. "Properly attired."

Warned by the downward flick of his gaze and the amused note that had returned to his voice, Kati glanced down taking in the tattered cotton of her shift. Mortified, she gave the fabric a jerk, wincing as she heard a seam give way. Determined to reclaim both her wits and her dignity, she glanced up only to see Rackham's retreating form continue its brisk march down the corridor.

"Oh and Miss Annesley, don't mind Hawk," he called, "he's all bark, and often too drunk to know to whom he's conversing. Be it wench or wooden beam."

Taking a deep breath, Kati hurried to catch up. "I'm fine, thank you." Unbeknownst to him, her hands were shaking.

"Ah! Here, we are!" Stopping in front of a nondescript wooden door, Rackham produced a set of keys. With just a moment's hesitation, he picked one out of their number and slid it home. Turning the handle with a grunt the door slowly opened. It took Kati's eyes a moment to adjust, this room was even darker and smaller than hers had been. Quickly scanning the chamber her eyes were drawn to a small figure huddled in the far corner.

"Lizzy!" Kati whispered frantically. "Lizzy!" Rackham and all else forgotten she ran to her sister. Rushing to the corner, she fell to her knees throwing her arms around her little sister. The tears she swore not to cry rushed unbidden to her eyes.

"Kati? Is that you?" Elizabeth called out, bewilderment ringing in her voice. Elizabeth's face crumpled. "Oh, Kati! I was so frightened! I'm so glad you've come!" She launched herself at her sister, throwing her arms around Kati's slim waist and burying her face in her ruffled bosom.

Behind Kati's back, Jack looked uncomfortable. He took the unspoken cue, ducking outside the large door.

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth whispered. "Are they going to let us go home?"

Grimacing Kati shook her head. "I'm afraid not pet. They're taking us to Nassau."

"Nassau?" Elizabeth questioned, "The pirate haven?"

Of course, her sister had heard about the little island. "How have you heard of this place? And more importantly, what have you heard about it?"

"I'm afraid I've been very naughty," she confessed, sniffing pitiably. "Please don't be angry…"

Kati arched a sooty eyebrow, "nothing good ever follows when you preface a sentence in such a manner."

"Well, I just love Cooks stories of her time in Havana, and I may have asked her to tell me about her life there…which may have lead me to borrow her scandal sheets as I was rummaging around for a book of hers…which may have resulted in me reading them…one or two…hundred times. Did you know there's no government in Nassau? The whole island is run by pirates!"

Kati glanced down at her sister, smiling ruefully. "You really do get into everything, don't you? And here I thought you were simply being dramatic, seeing brigands and charlatans lurking behind every curtain and potted shrub."

"Told you so," Elizabeth said, wrapping her arms tighter around her sister. Still sniffing Elizabeth suddenly wrinkled her nose and puckered her lips as she leaned forward, sniffing at Kati's skin. "What on earth is that stench?"

Kati stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"Kati you stink!" Elizabeth giggled wiping at her eyes.

"I do not! It's simply my new perfume." Sticking her nose in the air, she made a valiant effort at seriousness before breaking down into a fit of giggles herself.

"If it is, I suggest returning it immediately, because you stink to high heavens!"

Kati let out an unladylike snort, "well excuse me but you young lady do not exactly smell like a fresh spring morning yourself! Besides, over a week stuck in a stuffy, dark room without the benefit of a proper bath will have that effect. "

Elizabeth's sulky blush did little to temper the situation, and soon both girls were laughing hysterically.

After a few minutes, their laughter began to subside. "What do they want with us Kati?" Elizabeth asked cuddling into her.

Brushing her fingers absently through her sister's tangled hair Kati sighed, "I don't know pet…I don't know…."

"Do you think it has something to do with Papa?"

Kati bit her lip. "Perhaps," she said after a minute, mulling the thought over.

Kati had long ago learned to ignore her younger sister's rioting imagination and penchant for drama. She couldn't afford to abandon her sensibilities every time Lizzy spotted a werewolf sniffing around the trash heap or fell back upon the sofa in a semi soon and announced that she was coming down with the Black Plague, yet maybe she was on to something?

"But don't you find it the least bit odd that they haven't killed us yet?" Elizabeth queried, her large brown eyes going wide.

"I'm not certain odd would be the word I would use," she murmured, sending her sister a pointed look.

"They usually do just that you know," Elizabeth informed her, "kill everyone and take any treasure they find."

"Exactly how many of these pamphlets have you read?"

"Not so many, though just last week in the Tatler, I learned that King George was going to try to capture the island back from the pirates. There are several men vying for the opportunity. From what I've read, he's ready to send ships as soon as the winter breaks."

Kati's mind began to whirl, did this have something to do with why Mister Rackham kept inquiring after King George? She wasn't as oblivious as her father thought. Kati knew her uncle's business ventures took him often to the America's and knew the threat the Pirates posed to commerce between England and the new colonies. From what she remembered there hadn't been any serious pirate activity North of Spanish Florida in at least ten years. The Pirates clearly did not intend to kill them, at least not yet. They were the only two saved aboard a ship of fifty.

She could hardly afford to give in to her sister's dark flights of fancy, yet there seemed to be a few grains of truth to her words. Falling into a habit, she began to sing softly, gently rocking her little sister to the tune. Absently mulling over their situation. After the space of a few moments, she gently tried to loosen Elizabeth's clawlike grip, but to no avail. Lizzy was fast asleep. Smiling ruefully at Elizabeth's unfailing ability to sleep just about anywhere Kati stroked her tangled hair, gently working several knots. They were so different. Lizzy was all golden strands and summer loveliness. Absentmindedly she touched a hand to her own snarled black tumble. Wild and unrestrained her father once said in disapproval. She didn't want to venture a guess at his opinion if he were to see her now.

Kati let out a heavy sigh. She was the eldest, the sensible one. The one forced to step firmly into her mother's slippers after her untimely death years before. The one left to comfort a sobbing, grief-stricken little girl when her own heart still lay in broken shards in her aching breast. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall heavy on the wall. "Don't worry pet, I'll get us out of this mess, somehow," she whispered.

"Are you awake? Miss Annesley, wake up. Pssssst!" Ignoring the frantic hissing just as she'd ignored the creak of the door opening and the telltale groan of the floorboards, Kati turned her head and burrowed deeper into her bed, frowning slightly. When had it gotten so hard? And why was Elizabeth calling her Miss Annesley? It had always been useless to feign sleep around Elizabeth. She would start out by poking you in the ribs, then pluck a feather from the nearest hat and begin tickling your toes. Once, in a frenzy to share her latest theories regarding the mermaid she'd spotted splashing around in the bottom of the garden well, she dumped the entire contents of the wash basin over Kati's head. Kati had come up swinging, boxing Elizabeth's ears so hard she would whine about their ringing for a week.

This time, Lizzy began pulling on her arm, "Miss Annesley, it's time to go."

Slowly she began to realize that she was not tucked cozily into her bedroom at Sherborne Castle. The chamber in which she found herself was not warm and cozy, and the hard 'bed' she snuggled into was, in fact, the cold, dusty floor. Raising her head, she began blinking the sleep from her eyes, "What?"

"Miss Annesley, I'm sorry, but it's time to go." She recognized the voice; it was Jack Rackham.

Grimacing she began to struggle to pry his hands from her arm. "No please, let me stay with her."

At first, he didn't budge, letting her know just how ineffective her struggles could be when matched against his strength. But then Rackham slowly moved his hand. "I'm sorry, but you cannot stay. Say your goodbyes; I'll wait outside."

With gentle hands, she softly shook her sister, "Lizzy, Lizzy."

"Whazzit?" Elizabeth muttered. Rubbing her eyes, she peered around sleepily. "What, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry pet, but I'm afraid I have to go," Kati whispered.

"What no! You can't! I won't let you! Please don't leave me!" She yelled throwing herself at Kati once more. Kati could see a shadow of her own fears reflected in Lizzy's pleading eyes.

Her heart broke at her little sister's desperate wail. Blinking her eyes rapidly to keep her own tears at bay Kati gave her a fierce hug. "It's ok pet; it's ok. I'll always be here for you. But you have to be brave now, can you do that for me."

With watery eyes and a furrowed brow Elizabeth gave a jerky nod.

Slowly moving to stand Kati quickly whipped a hand over her eyes, clearing away the telltale tears. They wouldn't see her cry.

"Kati," came the small voice.

"Yes, pet?"

"I love you."

Drawing in a shaky breath Kati choked on the reply, "I love you too." With one last look at her little sister she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Doing his best to overlook the despondent woman beside him Jack fixed a cheery grin to his face. "Right, I hope you enjoyed your visit."

"Yes, thank you," came the deadpan. Kati was silent as she trudged behind the pirate. After a few minutes of twisting hallways and stairs, they came to a sudden stop in front of a second large wooden door. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she almost marched straight into Jack's back.

"Here we are!" Jack said with a conspicuously jolly smile fixed to his lips.

Wondering if she'd simply leapt from frying pan to fire, she blurted out, "Where are you taking me?"

"Ah, well yes," Jack said clearing his throat. Our captain is desirous of your company. He stole a sidelong glance at her, gauging her reaction.

Kati shook her head, grateful that he couldn't see her face. "I do not wish to spend another minute in your Captain's company, and after our first meeting I am quite confident the feeling is mutual."

Attempting to tame the smile that came unbidden to his lips at the memory of the slight woman bringing his esteemed Captain to his knees Jack kept his back to her. "Ah, might I suggest that you refrain from any direct assaults on his person during this particular encounter?"

"I will do my utmost."

"Splendid!"

Smoothing a hand over her once white shift, Kati watched as Jack gave the door a forceful knock.

"Enter!"

Obeying the curt command, Jack opened the door. As it pushed open Kati squinted into the dim, fisting the cotton of her flimsy nightdress to steel her nerves. The moody flicker of the candles kept her eyes from adjusting entirely. The ceiling was low, with a metal chandelier hanging in the middle. To her left stood a small wooden desk with various papers strewn haphazardly about. A collection of several glass bottles were scattered among the papers, a few containing the last dregs of a dark liquid she strongly suspected to be of the alcoholic sort. Next to the table sat a worn leather-backed chair, and directly in front of her stood a bed. Not large and not small, its sheets rumpled and tousled from recent use. The last thought made her vaguely uncomfortable.

How long had it been since she'd slept in a bed, a real bed? Between their first few weeks at sea and the time on board The Ranger Kati reasoned it must have been over a month since she had such a luxury.

"Miss Annesley," the masculine droll, pitched barely above a growl, seemed to resonate all the way through to her bones.

Turning towards the voice, she could make out little more than a dark figure leaning against the wall with indifferent grace. "Good evening Captain Vane, it's a…pleasure once more." The sarcasm in her tart reply was palpable.

Her ears were so tuned to his movements that she would have almost sworn she could hear him cock an eyebrow.

"Jack you can leave us."

Rackham's eyes darted between the two figures, "Captain I…"

"Jack," came the growl.

"Right, Miss Annesley," he offered a small jerk of his head. "Captain," and then was gone.

Kati stood tall with her head held high. She had been in the company of men before, however never alone, never in a bedroom, and never in a flimsy nightdress. The gravity of the situation was not lost on her. It took every last ounce of her flagging willpower, but she managed to remain where she stood.

He was silent for so long that Kati feared if she fisted her nightdress any harder she'd tear a seam. From the corner a match suddenly flared to life, its brightness catching her unaware. The flame died before she could blink, leaving her with the aroma of cheroot smoke and a glowing tip in the dim.

Vane gave the woman a lazy once over. She looked terrible. From her dirty feet to the thick black curtain of knots and snarls cascading from her crown, she was a sight. Her chin was set at a regal angle, but he would have almost sworn it quivered just a bit. "You…look well."

Kati focused on where his eyes should be, trying to hold his invisible gaze. She knew when she was being mocked. "Thank you for the lovely accommodations."

"I'm glad you find them agreeable." A cloud of smoke streamed from the darkness.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Something that at the moment only you can provide."

Involuntarily Kati took a step back. He didn't mean that.

A raspy chuckle emanated from the darkness. The caress of that smoky baritone somehow more a threat to her virtue than her own dishabille. Slowly its owner emerged from his veil of shadows. "Don't flatter yourself Miss. Annesley, I have no desire to steal your virtue. Besides, I'm never tempted by virgins." The glowing tip of cheroot vanished.

His face seemed to offer no emotion. However, maybe it was the play of the light, but she swore that she could detect the barest hint of amusement in the depths of his blue eyes.

Kati stiffened. "They say you've been known to ravish ten in one night." As soon as the words were out, she cringed, wondering what had possessed her give voice to one of Lizzy's shocking pieces of gossip.

"Do they now?" His sudden stillness warned her to tread with care. However instead of lashing out as she expected, he lightly grabbed her delicate jaw between his fingers and tilted her head back to meet his curious gaze. "I wonder where a woman of your character came to hear such a thing." He had never much cared for virgins. Their flesh might be delectably tender, but wooing them required both charm and patience, two qualities he did not possess.

Katriona's eyes went wide, reminding Vane of a befuddled owl.

He held her face, searching her eyes for a moment, then suddenly his grip tightened. "Maybe I have," his voice was mocking. "But they don't know what to do with their hands…or their mouths." With a push Vane released her. "A pity," he smirked, "considering that there are such pleasurable ways of putting each to work." Smirking he backed away from her, before unceremoniously depositing himself before a moderately sized table she had missed when she first entered.

"Sit." It was a command.

She closed her eyes, thankful he couldn't see her burning cheeks. She would not provide him with any more satisfaction at her expense. Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin she stiffly lowered herself into one of the hard-backed chairs. Kati took a moment to study him. His hair gleamed in the candlelight, its wild mass combed by nothing more than impatient fingers. He wore the same dark green shirt he'd worn the first night he questioned her, its sleeves unceremoniously shoved up past his elbows. From his broad shoulders to his muscled forearms, he was an imposing man. He could probably snap her neck between thumb and forefinger. For the moment, it seemed she would not have to defend herself from him. He brought an apple to his mouth, tearing into the juicy flesh with his teeth, then groped at the plate in front of him. Kati frowned at the table. There wasn't a piece of cutlery in sight. He swept his tongue around his lips but still managed to miss the dollop of juice at the corner of his mouth. Despite his appalling lack of table manners, there was something unabashedly animalistic in the way he ate, in his raw determination to appease his appetites, convention be damned. As he plucked up a leg of chicken and began to gnaw the meat directly from the bone, juice trickled down his chin.

At that moment her stomach let out a loud growl.

Vane looked at her. "Hungry Miss Annesley."

He was doing it again. Mocking her with nothing more than the devilish arch of one tawny eyebrow.

Pointedly ignoring his gaze she neatly reached for a piece of bread, delicately nibbling at the hardened loaf. "With your display of table manners, I feared I might lose my appetite."

Draping one long arm over the back of the chair next to him, he angled his entire body toward her.

Although she knew he was studying her, she pointedly ignored him. His focus was so intent Kati had to fight the urge to squirm. Refusing to dignify his scrutiny with a response she reached for a leg of chicken. Bringing the meat to her mouth, she chewed trying to hide her relish.

He merely watched. "Satisfied?"

Ignoring the provocative insult, Kati tucked another piece of chicken between her lips before thinking better of her silence. "The only thing that would satisfy me would be mine and my sister's immediate departure."

Vane paused to take another bite of the apple. "On that account, I fear you are to remain unsatisfied."

The two ate in silence for a few more minutes. Just before Kati believed she would explode Vane spoke. "Miss. Annesley, you are in possession of something that I want. A…" Vane searched for a word to describe his relationship with Eleanor. "Business associate of mine has passed along a piece of information that I want to verify."

"You do not trust your associates? And here I believed pirates were such trustworthy individuals."

Vane was not amused. "I haven't trusted anyone for a very long time. I'd be a bloody fool to start now."

Kati surged to her feet. She readjusted the neckline of her nightgown and leveled her gaze at the arrogant pirate. "I won't tell you anything until you explain what we're doing here."

A disarming note edged his voice. "You are in no position to argue."

"Judging by all the trouble you went to to get me in this particular situation, I'm assuming what you want is of some importance. Therefore Captain Vane it appears as though I am."

His gaze narrowed. "I've slit men's throats for less impertinence."

"To start, you will place my sister and me together. And surely you can't expect us to spend the remainder of our incarceration garbed in nothing but our— our— nightdresses."

"You can remove yours anytime you like."

She was not amused.

"Will there be anything else, Miss Annesley?" he asked. "I could arrange for different accommodations? A night in the hold with the crew, perhaps?" Vane left the threat to dangle between them. She had courage he'd give her that. Demanding something of him on his own ship. The errant thought reminded him of another fiery female. The one who had gotten him into this in the first place.

"I don't believe I'll be needing anything else." She waited as the silence stretched between them.

Just as Vane parted his lips to speak a fist pounded the door. "Seventy gunner approaching from the north, Charles."

The imperturbable calmness of Anne's voice only underscored the terrible urgency of her message. "British Naval Vessel. Third Rate Edinburgh."


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello, lovely readers! Thank you again for bearing with me! I apologize for the wait once more as life has interrupted the creative process. I hope that you enjoy the update and as always LOVE hearing your comments and feedback!_

Vane bit off an oath. His probing would have to wait. He cursed himself for his distraction, giving the Edinburgh all the time she needed to catch their wind. The Godfrey, primarily an escort vessel, had been easy prey, surrendering without much of a fight. The Edinburgh would not succumb so readily.

He stared up at the girl's face, full lips set in a resolute line, slate gaze holding his. Waiting. He thought briefly of the knife at his side. For one black moment, Vane was tempted to surrender his last shred of decency and dispose of her. It wouldn't be hard. His fingers instinctively flexed imagining how easy it would be. But as he held her determined gaze something stayed his hand. If those big, gray eyes welled with tears while she pled prettily for her freedom and her life, he would have been sorely disappointed. She had even dared to chide him for his treatment of her. She might have shamed him if he still had a conscience. Her gaze was unnerving. Almost as though she could see what he was thinking.

After a moment, Vane stood. "It seems we're about to entertain uninvited guests. Friends of yours?" He growled.

Mirroring his movements Kati snatched in a shaky breath. "No, but I suspect them to be enemies of yours."

"Who isn't?" The matter of fact pronunciation disturbed her more than she would have cared to admit.

"Charles." Anne's voice interrupted the exchange. Either way, he could hardly afford to sit and banter with the girl while his ship waged open warfare on one of the Royal Navy's seventy-gun ships.

"Shorten the sails and heave to," he commanded.

Anne had never before questioned an order. There was puzzled silence from the other side of the door, then a hesitant "Aye," before her stealthy footsteps moved away. Counting on the elements of mist and mystery to buy him time. Vane moved to stand directly in front of her. "Do exactly as I say." His warm fingers encircled her chin, giving it a harsh squeeze. He jerked her around the table, but the ship lurched as it came about. She collided clumsily with his chest and on instinct he was forced to catch her awkwardly around the waist to keep her from falling. They hung suspended in time for the briefest of moments, breath mingling, bodies touching.

Kati blinked. This was the first time any man not a relation had had his hands on her. Absurdly her gaze was drawn to the splay of her hand across the broad plane of his chest. Her hands were large for a woman, yet the expanse of muscle somehow managed to make them look small.

The brief moment broke with the creaking protestations of his vessel. Vane caught her by the arm, more roughly this time, and flung her backward into the chair he had just vacated. "Sit."

Bewildered by his abrupt desertion, Kati immediately made to stand. "What are you doing?"

Striding across the room, Vane grabbed a length of rope from somewhere near the bed, and Returning quickly produced a knife from his pocket. Kati's eyes went wide at the threat of cold steal. Using one of her legs she kicked out hard aiming for that broad expanse of chest. However, he was prepared. Dropping the rope, Vane caught her kicking leg behind the knee and gave a harsh pull. The motion sent both her and the leather backed chair scraping across the wood towards him. With his hand still gripping the naked flesh behind her knee and the muscular breadth of his shoulders blocking her exit, she was trapped. Pinned to the chair. Unconcerned with the compromising position, Vane leaned forward, one hand still painfully digging into her tender flesh, the other wielding the knife inches from her nose. The angle crunched her neck and pressed her low back painfully into the chairs seat.

"One word. One movement Miss. Annesley…." He let the threat hang in the air.

Kati ceased to struggle but continued to glare up at him. If looks could cause bodily dismemberment, Vane was fairly certain he would be missing something vital.

Kneeling between her splayed legs, he wielded the knife with expert skill. His warm fingers roughly encircled her ankle, yanking it against one of the chairs legs so he could secure her. She sat rigidly straight in the hard chair glaring at him as the muscular breadth of his shoulders brushed her inner thighs. She surveyed him with contempt as if having her ankles bound to its legs were mere inconveniences to be tolerated like a pair of too-tight boots. His gaze raked her in blunt appraisal. He was taking no chances. The only thing unbound about her was her hair. It streamed down her back in a tangled mess of sable.

Back straight, Katriona, her father snapped from memory. Feet together like a little lady. But Kati could not bring her feet together. They were bound to opposite chair legs, making her feel exposed, vulnerable, and in the wake of her father's imaginary rebuke, secretly ashamed. Vane's gaze seared her cheeks, but she refused to avert her face from his scrutiny. Her jaw was beginning to ache from being clamped so hard. For a moment she believed that he would forget her wrists, yet one painful jerk convinced her otherwise.

In one quick movement, Vane secured her hands in front of her, connecting them to the same rope that bound her ankles. The angle of her bound arms thrust her small breasts upward to strain against the thin fabric of her bodice. Vane's gaze briefly flicked there of its own volition. His hand threaded through the fragile shield of her hair to find her neck. His warm fingers squeezed, forcing her gaze to meet his. She could feel his brandy-heated breath against her ear.

His dark gaze held her captive, and her pulse fluttered alarmingly. Kati tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder. Earlier she had been bold, pushing him to frustration and anger. This was different. His actions were matter of fact and practiced. He was doing exactly what was necessary to ensure she didn't get in his way.

In one quick motion, he straightened and was gone.

Locking her inside to wait.

Vane raced through the corridor, the walls brushing his shoulders at each tortuous twist and turn. With a lithe jump, he swung up through a narrow opening. As he was cast from the shelter of the corridor, wind gusted around him, plastering his shirt to his body. He tuned his ears to hear the Ranger's crew preparing for conflict. The ghostly wail of the wind nearly drowned out the pounding of boots along the deck.

"Ah, Charles, so good of you to join us." The sarcastic lilt could be none other than his quartermaster.

He let out a growl. His shaggy hair whipped in the wind. The shadows of the rigging crisscrossing his bearded face.

Rackham continued nonplussed, "I fear they've caught us at a bad time."

"Jesus." The muttered oath came from the small, red-haired woman at his side.

Vane gripped the railing hard, straining to see into the stormy sky.

"Cap'n!" Tarn called from his lookout position at foretop. His voice cracked in the wind. "She's comin', not yet in battle formation at port."

Was this pure coincidence? Was word of the girl's disappearance not yet known? "Full Sail," Vane bellowed, peering out into the murky night. He'd sailed these waters for over twenty years as an able seaman, thumbing his nose at the death-spewing cannons of privateers, Brits, the Spanish and Frenchies alike, but now his nostrils twitched as if he could already scent the spilled blood.

"Get us the hell out of here!" Vane shouted.

"Cap'n!" The order was followed without question. He hated it. But they would run. Had to.

Mist shrouded the Ranger, disguising her as the canvass of her sails unfurled to catch the brisk tailwinds. She cut through the water toward the horizon, as sleek as a satin ribbon gliding through a woman's hair. Not a single shot was fired. They were too far away for the Edinburgh to give chase.

"Well, that was comfortable." Jack's voice cut through the heavy silence.

Vane's head snapped up at his approach.

"Somethin ain't right," Anne said sidling up beside the two. "The Edinburgh's not supposed to be here, she should be winding her way around the Scottish coast."

It was uncanny how closely her words mirrored his thoughts. Vane knew he was missing something. Something vital, something that Eleanor had conveniently failed to mention. He didn't want to think it, but he knew what she was capable of. Thinking otherwise would be deluding himself. "Make for Block Island."

"Charles?" Jack couldn't keep the note of surprise from his voice.

Vane gazed off at the rapidly fading lanterns of the Edinburgh. "I need to see Bellamy."

"Aye."

He couldn't believe he was risking the lives and freedom of his crew just to deliver the two English brats.

Kati breathed deeply, determined to keep a cool head. She would not panic or lose control. It would do no good. So she waited. And waited. But no cannon fire ever came.

They were moving, and fast.

At a full sail she judged The Ranger could out run a seventy-gun ship of the line, yet why were they running. Was their Captain afraid? The thought puzzled her. She didn't think he was scared of anything.

She tried to make a fist, working the feeling back into her tied hands. She had been steered off course into fierce, treacherous waters, and she wanted her calm life back. Straining against the ropes, Kati attempted a stretch to relieve her cramping lower back. The movement was limited however as her restraints pulled her forward into an awkward hunch, pressing her wrists together and her arms forward. As much as she hated to admit it, she hoped Captain Vane would return soon.

Just then the door burst open framing the man himself in the Cabin's doorway. She gave an involuntary jump, wincing slightly as the rope pulled taut. "Speak of them devil and he shall appear," she muttered.

Vane slammed the door with enough force to rattle the hinges. Leaning back against it, his dark eyes studied her with a severe intensity that unnerved her. "Tell me about your father."

Kati stared at him, "I'm sorry?" She was not prepared for the question. "What of him."

"I humored you before Miss. Annesley. At the moment I'm not feeling as obliging."

"If this is your idea of humor, I shudder to think what you find truly serious."

"Believe me Miss Annesley, you do not." Vane glanced back to her for a moment before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

His boot heels clicked in muted rhythm as he began to pace in a maddening circle around her chair. Not knowing exactly where he stood was even more disconcerting than having him glare at her. She couldn't shake the sensation that he wanted something, yet was only biding his time.

"My father is none of your business, though I assure you that when he finds out I've been abducted, he'll be a man given to action, not fretting."

"Where was your precious father when you and your sister were taken aboard my ship?" The truth in his words chilled her.

A loose plank creaked behind her, yet she resisted the urge to turn her head. "Tucked in his bed with a warm brick wrapped in flannel perhaps?"

Kati swallowed her silence condemnation enough.

When his question was met with stony silence, Vane resumed his pacing with a harsh chuckle.

Frustration made her voice crisp. "Your concern for my father's comfort is touching, but if you'd spare half as much for my sister and myself, I believe that I would be far more disposed to answer your questions."

Vane came to stop in front of her. Kati glared at him without flinching. "You haven't killed us and to some degree have kept us fed. You've made it abundantly clear that there is nothing else that you are," Vane raised a tawny eyebrow daring her to continue. Kati's gaze narrowed. "Desirous of, therefore the only end to which I come is that you want something and need both of us to attain it."

Bracing his palms on the chairs arms Vane leaned forward.

Kati took a deep breath, her senses immediately overwhelmed by the scent of salt, sweat, and something darker, muskier. She shook her head trying to clear it. "Mister Rackham has made no secret of his desire to learn of my family and you yourself have just inquired after my father." She looked him dead in the eye, "you want money from my father don't you."

Vane blinked. Clever girl. She wasn't an idiot, he'd give her that. When she had confessed her identity, he'd been unable to believe his luck. It had been simply too easy to have the sisters delivered so neatly into his hands after all of Eleanor's planning. Of course, that had been the only easy part.

"What do they say of me Miss Annesley?"

"I beg your pardon?" She was confused by the abrupt change in subject.

"Tell me more of the nefarious doings of Captain Vane," he coaxed.

Kati looked up at the ceiling, determined to focus on the questions instead of the man. "They say you're a member of the flying gang."

"On that you are correct." He continued to stare, his blue eyes intense.

"That you can skewer your enemies with a single blow."

"Sometimes it takes two." His probing continued, "Go on."

Kati's honesty betrayed her. "I've heard what your men did to the crew of the Diamond. The tale had been the talk of London. From the squalor of Bermondsey to the gardens of Vauxhall.

"I know how you beat Captain John Tibby and his crew, torturing his men for pure sport." She spit out the last part as though the words themselves sickened her. "Nathaniel Catling used to work for my uncle. Did it give you joy to string him up and watch his face turn blue?"

Vane froze. The look in her eyes almost making him take a step back. That was twice she had surprised him. He didn't like it. "Tell me, Miss. Annesley" he coaxed, "if you've heard of all my nefarious dealings and the murders I've committed, why do you seem so intent on adding yourself to their number?"

She drew in a shaky breath, fighting for the steely poise she had always prided herself on. "I don't believe that you'll kill us."

He laughed then, something harsh and devoid of humor. "God you're young." He paused before continuing, "there are things worse than death, things that will make you beg for such a luxury."

Kati dug her nails into the palms of her hand, squeezing so hard her knuckles turned white.

Despite her efforts, Vane knew she was afraid. His narrowed his eyes, a feeling oddly close to disappointment coursed through him.

"Please?" Her voice sounded strained, even to her ears.

He nursed the sudden urge to punish her for the look seeping into her misty eyes. But the vulnerability of her posture unaccountably gutted his anger, tinging it with mild contempt.

"Ah such charming manners," he murmured, looking her full in the face and seeing the sheen of unshed tears glimmering in their depths. "Tell me, Miss Annesley, what do you plead so prettily for? Your life?" He wove his fingers through her hair once more, "or something much more precious to your genteel sensibilities?"

He knew that he was being cruel, but for some reason, he could not stop himself. He'd known it from the moment he'd buried his fingers in the dark silk of the girl's hair. He'd clenched his fists to keep from touching her, but his hands had acted with a stubborn will of their own. Her stubborn courage had stirred something, reminding him of Eleanor. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he'd hated it.

Vane was treading dangerous waters. "Anything else?"

He still expected some harsh retort. However, her soft words surprised him.

"Perhaps you are not the devil everyone thinks you are."

His bitter laugh made her flinch, and he immediately tightened his grip, giving her hair a harsh yank to meet his gaze.

"I'm not a man troubled by qualms of conscience or soul."

Vane's gaze lingered on her face. Warry. Resolute. Strange, that this girl spoke so openly to him when his men would not dare. "Your concern is touching Miss Annesley, but if I'd have wanted a sermon about the devil, I'd have abducted a priest."

Vane released her then, swearing under his breath. Jesus, Jack had been right. He really had a talent for terrifying English maidens. "Miss Annesley, my men and I have gone through a fair bit of trouble to secure both you and your sister. As it is, I stand to make a pretty penny from your ransom. Now, do not force me to forget the purpose of my venture and slit your throat for my trouble."

After a moment angry eyes raised to meet him. With a tight movement, she jerked her chin once up and down.

"Good."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you again to everyone who has read this story! And thank you for sticking with me! Again I apologize for the delay in updating; I'm trying to finish the whole story before I begin posting again and can now say that it is almost complete. Rest assured it will not stay a WIP forever. I plan on posting at least one chapter per week with possibly more to follow. Again I LOVE reading what you all think of the development and the characters and as always appreciate reviews!**

 _Fuck._

 _He had done it again. She had won. It was always a game between them. One winning and one losing, more often than not he, not she, was the loser._

 _When she had finally come into his arms, all soft words and supplications his anger had fled, washed away on the evening tide. Usually, they crashed together, like a storm beating upon the sand. Relentlessly pounding, pushing, punishing until there was nothing left. But this time, like the few before had been different._

 _He knew she didn't need him, Eleanor Guthrie would be Eleanor Guthrie with or without Charles Vane, but she needed him now, and that was enough. Had to be enough. She had shared her vision with him, her dream, her desire to make more of this godforsaken spit of sand. She didn't trust him, she had said so herself. But she needed him, didn't she? She needed what he could give her, what he could make her feel. And at this moment she needed him to stand with her, to help her, to make her dreams a reality. That was enough._

 _Later, much later, after the candles had burned low and the tavern had grown quiet she lay nestled against him, her arm around his waist, and her soft breath tickling the hair on his chest. Absent-mindedly he began to stroke her back, light, languid strokes without thought or purpose._

 _After a few moment, the light breathing halted._

 _He didn't move. Waiting to see if she would push him away._

 _Slowly her arm wound tighter around him, pulling him closer. He didn't say anything, and neither did she._

 _But she was awake._

 _He knew that she was._

 _Vane curled his arm around her and tangled his fingers in her hair._

 _She didn't open her eyes._

Vane knew that nothing positive came from excessive drink. He'd suffered enough over the years to have known better. Like so many, many vices the rewards of the immediate moment overpowered any distant negatives. He glanced around the room, struggling to shake off the memory's lingering daze. He sighed. It seemed there was to be no escaping her, even with an ocean between them.

"Kati, you barely touched your supper. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine pet, you go ahead and finish it." But Kati knew she couldn't fool Lizzy, who always strove to see beneath the surface of things.

"You've been awfully quiet the last few days. Did…did something happen?"

Did something happen? In the strictly Christian sense no. Captain Vane had done no more than threaten her and hint towards the unspeakable. But there was no denying that their conversation had shaken her.

Lizzy scooted closer. "Maybe just some soup?"

Kati forced a smile, "Alright, alright."

Grabbing the tin cup, she bit back a hiss as the hot metal stung her palm. Releasing the offending object she turned her hands over, examining the neat little Red Crescent moon shapes dug into her flesh.

 _"There are things worse than death, things that will make you beg for such a luxury."_

Captain Vane's humorless timbre rushed back to her making her squirm uncomfortably.

"Kati, what's the matter?" Try as the might Katriona could not avoid her sisters questioning gaze.

"Captain Vane can be a very unsettling man."

Lizzy nodded, accepting the simple explanation without further comment.

Silence filled the air between the two for a stretch of moments before Lizzy spoke again. "You know, this isn't quite so terrible."

Kati bit back an un-lady like snort. "Not so terrible? A few days ago you had a decidedly different opinion."

"Yes…well a few days ago I was alone in a dark cellar with only my own nose to keep me company."

Kati sent her sister a bemused glance.

Taking a bite of the hard bread before her Lizzy chewed thoughtfully. "Now, I have you."

"We're still in a dark cellar pet."

"There was also Miss. Bonny."

"What?" Kati exclaimed.

"The woman, with the red hair. She would bring me food…and talk to me."

Kati tried picturing the small, red-haired woman she had seen on a few occasions. Somehow she didn't seem like the talkative type.

"What did you speak of?"

Lizzy nestled herself against her sister, "she was awfully quiet at first and only glared at me. But, when I wouldn't stop crying she told me that I only cried because I let them make me."

"That's a curious thing to say."

"I thought so too," Lizzy said suppressing a yawn. "So I asked her what she meant."

"What did she say?"

"Well, she told me that I could only feel what I let others make me feel. That it was my choice whether or not I gave them power over me."

Katriona said nothing, pondering the woman's words. A curious thing for a pirate to say, and a female pirate at that. She drew her legs up under her and settled back against the scratchy old grain sack that acted as their mutual bed. Lizzy was soon curled up against her, with her head tucked snuggly under Kati's chin, lulled to sleep by the gentle swaying of the old vessel. Yet like it so often had over the last few weeks, sleep continued to evade her. While Elizabeth took their situation in stride each day, she secretly struggled to make heads or tails it. This particular evening she found it exceedingly difficult.

Katriona Annesley had always been level headed. Yet when trapped aboard a pirate ship somewhere in the Atlantic with only her sister and fraying night dress she found it exceedingly difficult. Truth be told she had never been one for foolish adventures, because as her father had once admonished, _"each adventure had a price."_

The full cost of this one, she did not yet know.

She was no fool, she knew that if word of their abduction were known her reputation would be ruined, no matter her father's title or money. No suitable man would have a woman who had spent weeks aboard a pirate ship unsupervised and unchaperoned. Such was the place for a woman. Yet, a nagging voice in the back of her mind quietly whispered that not all women were subjected to such a fate. The image of the red-haired Miss Bonny came unbidden to her mind, and so too did her words to Lizzy.

 _"'She told me that it was my choice whether or not I gave them power over me.'"_

She had never questioned her role as a woman in society because there was nothing else open to her. It was her duty to fulfill to her father and to her family. She would make a good match, get married, eventually have children, and God willing, someday love would grow on a foundation of mutual trust and respect. Her parents had found it and someday she would too.

Her parents.

Her mother.

Kati closed her eyes and took a deep breath, surprising herself at the sudden emotional wave that ripped through her at the thought of her mother. It had been years, yet she clearly remembered the look on her father's face when he'd been told of the accident. She remembered her proud father, crumbling to the floor under the weight of his sobs and grief. Then she remembered her own tears, not long afterward. The way that he had looked at her as her mother was lowered into the ground that cold December day would haunt her until the day she died.

It was her fault. He never said it. But she knew. Even at that age, she knew that he blamed her.

She swallowed hard, burying the emotion deep inside. In that place that she never revealed and never discussed. Tomorrow was another day. Another day with Lizzy, another day that would bring them closer to a future that was uncertain, yet was coming as surely as the dawn.

And so the days continued. Each morning they were visited by either Jack Rackham or Miss Bonny. The chamber pot would be disposed of, and they would each receive a ration for breakfast. Sometimes one or the other would stay for a stretch, though more often than not it was Jack. The hours would stretch on interrupted only by the second arrival for dinner. Shortly after that if the weather was decent they were allowed on the quarter deck for a quarter of an hour. Such an allowance had surprised Kati, as they had not been permitted to see another soul save for the Captain, Jack Rackham or Miss Bonny, but once out of the hold she quickly realized that the area was deserted at that time of night, the mizzenmast shielding them from the glance of any curious crewmen.

Kati relished those few moments.

The sea air stung her raw eyes. The buffeting wind snatching her breath away and whipping her hair across her cheeks, yet a strange exhilaration would seize her whenever she looked out across the vast expanse of ocean. In the dark of the night with nothing but the moon for light, and sometimes not even that, the inky black appeared to go on forever, melting the heavens and the earth into one endless churning expanse. The world they lived in now was so different from their home. The great emerald sea of clipped lawns and hedges would have begun to trade its billows of green for the golds and russets of autumn by now.

How long had they been gone? One month? Two? Surely not three?

Lord Richard Annesley, third Marquess of Dorset, was a proud man. He would never let such an affront to his honor stand unchecked. He would act, but then so would the pirates. Kati knew that they wanted money, yet just how and why remained to be seen.

For now, they waited.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you again to everyone who has stuck with this story! I promise it will never be abandoned! As always I LOVE your comments, special thanks to the most recent comments from Anonymous, Kim, Soaring Hawk1, Inperfection, Lady-of-Reecia, and fireman23 for reviewing my last chapter!**

It was fairly common knowledge among the men that turned Pirate along the Eastern seaboard that if one was desirous of a piece of valuable information the man to see was Samuel Bellamy. Known by many as the Robin Hood of the seas, Bellamy took pride in profiting from European turmoil and enriching his own coffers, all the while garnering valuable pieces of information during his exploits.

The War of Spanish Succession had left large portions of the Eastern coast in ruins. The Indians and their French allies had burned most of the English settlements, leaving hundreds of miles of coastline uninhabited, including countless anchorages where an entire fleet of ships could anchor, unobserved by European eyes. Thus it was that Captain Charles Vane found himself in Eastham, Massachusetts in need of Bellamy's services.

"Well Charles, this is what you wanted," Rackham observed scanning the distant horizon.

Ignoring his quartermaster, Vane continued to sweep the desolate expanse of coastline. The bleak tablelands stretched out before him, desolate, scrubby, windswept dunes that ended with frightening suddenness in sheer cliffs of sand dropping ninety feet or more to the Atlantic beaches.

The sea's presence was everywhere in Eastham, in the breezes that blew through the town, in the roar of the surf rumbling from the east, and in the few townspeople's household possessions, scavenged from a hundred ships wrecked on the Atlantic shore. Vane knew all too well that not all of the wrecks were purely accidental. On a dark night, a ship could be lured onto the Cape's stark, harborless eastern shore by a man standing on the beach, gently swinging his lamp. An inexperienced ship captain, nervous about navigating the dangerous Outer Cape, would follow the lamp, thinking it the stern light of another ship, discovering his mistake only when it was too late to save his ship. Of course, there could be no witnesses to such deceptions, and an unusually large number of ships were later found on these beaches with neither survivors nor cargo. Vane remembered a time, long ago when it had been his job to swing such a lantern.

"Tack further up the coast and drop anchor."

"And the men?" Rackham inquired. The months since leaving Nassau had seen little action and fewer spoils. Though both he and Anne were privy to the nature of the voyage, the rest of the crew were not and wealth hungry men were only kept appeased for so long.

"Lie Low in the shallows until tomorrow night, then let the men go ashore. Make sure they stay out of trouble. Several nights of drinking and whoring should do some good, but we can't afford to bring too much attention to our presence here."

"Aye. I've not doubt they'll be happy to hear it." Rackham cocked an arched brow, "though what exactly do you plan to do?"

"I'm going to see Bellamy alone. You and Anne stay with the ship to keep the men in line until I return."

"Charles is that wise? When Bellamy finds out you're here…"

The sentence was cut off by Vane's deadpan. "He knows." It had been years since Vane and Bellamy had seen one another, yet years of fighting out a life for oneself under the Black made strange comrades of men. Noticing that Rackham had yet to institute his orders Vane gave his cheek an absent rub, abrading his palm on the fresh stubble of what he hoped would soon be a thriving beard. "What?"

"And…the girls?"

Vane turned to Rackham and narrowed his eyes, fixing him a glare. "Keep them locked up. I'll keep the key with me. They'll be fine for a few hours. Besides, they're not going anywhere."

"That's not the primary concern," Rackham muttered almost to himself. "Charles, ahem, while I have no doubt that the prospect of a wet mouth and open thighs will appease many of the men aboard if they were to find out that we had two young and might I add innocent charges below deck the last few weeks I fear they would…object…rather forcefully. To the detriment of said ladies below" Looking away Rackham choose his next few words with decided care. "I feel it is my duty as your second to bring the prospective consequences to your notice. Therefore with abject trepidation, I ask you again, are you absolutely…"

At his quartermaster again insistence on questioning his decisions in regards to the two Annesley sisters Vane leveled him a glared that would have frozen the harsh Bahamian sun.

Wincing visibly Rackham forced a smile, "right, a few hours should be fine."

As Rackham turned to leave Vane bit back a growl. It seemed that all his quartermaster did was question his decisions towards the Annesley sisters. The sooner he was rid of them, the better. He needed answers, and he hoped that Bellamy could provide. There was something that pricked at the back of his mind, like an itch that he couldn't quite scratch. Thoughts that continued to nag at him. She was so confident that the father would not mention the girl's disappearance, in fact, she seemed to all but dismiss the concern out of hand. There was something about this whole situation that Eleanor had not told him, that she had failed to mention. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he would be a fool to after their history. Yet he wondered again how far she would be willing to go to secure what she so desperately desired. A free and independent Nassau,. Vane hated to be left in the dark, and thus it fell upon Samuel Bellamy to shed some light on the situation at hand.

Sam Bellamy had done severe damage to the merchants of the Atlantic. Plundering up and down the coast from Maine to Havana, yet age and wealth had tempered his spirit somewhat and made the old man wish for more than an able-bodied whore to warm his bed at night. According to loose tongues, after earning his fortune, Bellamy returned to Eastham, Massachusetts where years earlier he had lost his young heart to the charms of a pretty sixteen-year-old girl who, in the intervening years, was never far from his thoughts. Unfortunately for her she too had been enchanted. After his departure, the terrified girl discovered she was pregnant and later was said to have been discovered in a barn with a dead baby in her arms. The good people of Eastham, descendants of the Pilgrims, subjected her to a public whipping before tossing her in the town jail to await trial for her infant's murder. She lost her mind during her incarceration, and with the possible assistance of the Devil, escaped to live a hermit's life on the stark tablelands above the Atlantic Beach, earning her the epithet Sea Witch of Billingsgate.

Bellamy never forgot the young girl nor what she had become after the good people of Eastham had leveled the cost of his transgressions upon her. Thus it was that he returned vowing to periodically remind the good people of their kind-heartedness.

It seemed that there was always a woman.

Vane knew only too well the truth of such a statement.

Despite all that he had seen, the years had been kind to Samuel Bellamy. He was not a large man, but size is not always the best notation of presence. His age was difficult to gauge; he'd obviously spent a great deal of time outdoors. His was a compelling face, broad of cheekbone, strong of brow, a face that might have remained too boyish had it not been honed by time and experience. He possessed an irresistible glint of humor in his hazel eyes. The amused slant of his lips. He always seemed to be on the verge of smiling, as if he were privy to some wonderful joke that had escaped the rest of the world. Unlike most men, the uncompromising sunlight showed him off to his best advantage. It accentuated the deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes and warmed his skin to a honeyed bronze. It was thus, in the uncompromising light of day that Charles Vane found Samuel Bellamy seated in an old rocker overlooking the inlet with a burning piece of Cheroot clasp between his lips.

"Well, the devil be damned if it ain't Charles Vane, a ye lowly scoundrel. I'll hang yer severed head from the yardarm or me name ain't Sam Bellamy!"

"Bellamy" Vane replied, not returning the older man's blatant enthusiasm.

"Whatever brings you to my humble little abode?"

"I'm guessing you already know the answer to that particular question."

"Me?" The older man clasped a hand to his breast in an overwrought gesture of affront at the suggestion. "Why I'm just an ol' retired sailor observing the king's peace and looking to while away me golden years."

Vane held back a derisive snort. If Bellamy was a law abiding sailor, then he might as well be the good Lord above. The men stared at each other for a few minutes unblinking, the mirth never leaving Bellamy's good-natured features. After a moment Bellamy's face broke into a broad grin, flashing nothing less than six golden teeth before he let out a hearty laugh. Standing from the chair, he flicked the burnt end of the cheroot at Vane's booted feet before offering him a grizzled paw. "Aye Vane, it's good to see ye."

Taking a moment to eye the outstretched hand, Vane finally clasped it firmly before allowing the older man to pull him up the steps.

"Ginny! Ginny! Where is that wench? Ginny!"

A moment later the screen door burst open with a crash as a smiling freckled face surrounded by a halo of auburn curls appeared. "I hear yer hollering ya graying old goat!"

"Two drafts a ale wench! And be quick about it!" Though the man's words were harsh, the warmth of his features betrayed no malice towards the girl.

Ushering him inside, Bellamy deposited himself at a small wooden table situated close to the roaring fire. A moment later the girl bustled in carrying two overflowing wooden mugs. Vane could guess their contents. As she bustled about the room, he took a moment to let his eyes lazily wander over her generous figure. He allowed his gaze to sweep from the roundness of her bottom to her large full breasts, and finally to her pert pink lips. It took little imagination to think up several ways in which those lips could be put to appreciative use.

He was a man, how could he not.

He wondered briefly if she was some relation to Bellamy, though one glance into her knowing brown eyes and the saucy smirk upon her lips gave him his answer. Pity, it appeared that age had not dulled the old man or his spirit.

"I see your golden years are treating you well," Vane said with a nod, bringing the mug to his lips.

The old man did not miss his meaning. "Aye, I be getting on as well as can be expected."

Vane smirked. Too well it seemed.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, each silently observing the other. They had seen much together fighting under the black, had killed many a man, and won such treasure; thus it was that the tranquility of the situation seemed to underscore its absurdity. That Vane was currently seated in what might by all accounts be an ordinary kitchen, across from a man that had been the scourge of the Mighty English Empire was not lost on him.

It was Vane who finally broke the silence. "I need information," he deadpanned without pretense.

Bellamy choked and sloshed the amber liquid over the rim of his goblet, "Aye, and I need a good fuck every once in a while, doesn't mean I get it," he said eyeing the curvaceous figure of Ginny.

The young woman eyed the men before the fire with thinly veiled amusement, "aye, yet a man worth his salt must work for what 'e desires."

"Be gone ye brazen wench before I cast ye out!" Bellowed Bellamy.

The woman merely rolled her eyes before bending to gather a basket of washing and adjust it on her ample hips before bustling out the door, leaving the men alone.

"She keeps me young," the older man said after a moment turning his eyes back to Vane. "Aye, and sucks me dry every chance she gets!"

The crude statement brought a smirk to Vane's lips.

There was always a woman.

"What have you heard from across the channel?"

The laughter immediately left the old man's eyes, something darker suddenly taking its place.

Bellamy looked contemplative, "It's an unusual fate we men 'ave," he said running his finger up and down the handle of the wooden mug, "when we succumb to the desires of women, aye Charles?"

At the insinuation, Vane immediately clenched his hand into a fist. Bellamy's meaning was not lost.

"What have you heard old man?" He barely managed to spit out the words, his anger rising.

Leaning back in his chair Bellamy observed Vane with shrewd curiosity, as though trying to piece together something curious. "The Guthrie woman has done well for herself, all but ousting her father, and securing one of Nassau's most infamous pirate's to her cause. I dare say she would make a better king than old George any day. A cunt attached to such brains and brass does wield much control."

Vane knew the truth in his words, yet it twisted something in his gut to acknowledge it. He clenched his teeth together to quell the automatic retort, denying the man's words would only confirm the harsh assessment.

Silence held between the two men again, yet this time it was Bellamy who broke it first. "Shy a two months ago a ship sought harbor during a storm 'er in Eastham. Odd thing was, this lot dina look to be sailors, dressed to fine for such work. The whole lot spoke nare a word of the good Lord's English but instead Italian."

At the pronouncement, Vane's eyebrows rose. He had been expecting something, unusual, though even this had surprised him. He waited for Bellamy to continue.

Bellamy took another swig before proceeding. "There's word from down South out of the Carolinas that a man of some import misplaced a valuable piece of cargo." The old man's eyes gazed at Vane shrewdly, "you wouldn't happen to know anything about that now would ye Captain Vane?"

Vane met Bellamy's eyes unflinchingly as he raised the mug to his lips. "Funny thing was, that same man whose holdings was receivin a fair, decent amount a' visits about this time last year from all sorts of gents from across the water," Bellamy paused, his eyes sweeping up to gaze directly at Vane, "or rather I suspect one gent in particular."

Vane nearly choked. It couldn't be. There was no way to know for certain.

Bellamy paused, taking a moment for his words to sink in, "aye laddie, I fear you're Mistress Guthrie has ye in way over your brawny head on this one."

Vane couldn't believe it. There was no way that Eleanor could be this stupid. She was brash and determined and would do anything to get what she wanted but this…no. Yet, even as he thought the words, his own floated back to him, " _just how far would Eleanor Guthrie go to ensure the safety of Nassau…_ " At the time he did not want to hazard a guess, yet it seemed fate had designed to give him the answer.

Vane signed, "are you certain?" Try was he might his voice still held a note of disbelief.

"Do ya doubt me."

He was silent.

"Think about it, Charles. The Guthrie woman is a determined little cunt. I know what ye got bound away below the decks of yer ship floatin innocently out beyond my little inlet."

"She's dragged you into something you can't begin to fathom."

Vane ground his teeth painfully.

"Ye knew what ye were gettin in to when you spirited those two little brats off their father's ship in the dead of night, yet I wonder if you'd do the same had you realized you'd be pissin on the Pretender himself."

"What is it you want in return?"

Bellamy let out a humorless chuckle, "Charles I'm and old man…"

Vane cut him off with a barely contained growl, "save me your condescension old man!" He was on his feet in an instant, rough, calloused hands clasped around the older man's throat. Yet a moment later he let out a hiss as he felt a sharp dig between the bones of his ribs. It seemed Bellamy was quicker than he gave him credit for.

"Remember Charles," Bellamy choked out "ye came to my door."

A moment later the sharp pressure again his rib was removed.

With a growl, Vane released the old man's throat and turned away from the table staring out the open doorway to the sea beyond.

The only sound filling the space was the merry crackle of the fire and Ginny's sweet lilting soprano filtering in from the side yard.

"As I was sayin before ye decided to grace me neck with ye calloused paws, no man should become entangled between two empires, especially when the woman tryin to pull his strings aims to play both sides against the middle."

After a moment Vane turned, gazing at Bellamy once more. "You're sure of all this."

"I'm telling you what I know." There was no deception in the old man's eyes, only a vague sort of indescribable pity. The last was the worst.

"Come," Bellamy said, a smile breaking over his sun tanned features, "might as well accepted that you're fucked and drink to Mistress Guthrie's good fortune!"

Vane was not amused, yet given the circumstance, a round of drink seemed the best recourse.

 ** _Some background to the situation. I'm a huge proponent of blending historical fact and fiction and given the circumstances decided to put my spin on things. Historically speaking there is evidence to establish that the real Charles Vane was a supporter of the Jacobite cause and the Old Pretender or James Stuart so far as it would help advance his vision of Nassau. The Old Pretender was the son of James I who was kicked off the British thrown and whose overthrow eventually lead to the George's of Hanover coming over from Germany and taking the throne. Bellamy's reference to "the gent across the water" refers to the name attributed to James Stuart by his contemporaries as the "King across the water." Additionally, Stuart was given money and housing by the Pope Innocent XIII, hence the Italian's mentioned by Bellamy. This will all become further teased out in the coming chapters but just in case anyone is confused here is a little backstory to the plot._**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Again I'm so sorry for the delay in this story! No, I haven't abandoned it, I've decided to rewrite portions of the coming chapters and as such it's taken be a bit longer than desired to post the next chapter. As always comments and feedback are LOVE!_**

 _His thumbs began to caress the lush velvet of her lips. Her skin was as soft as a lamb's, making him wonder almost as an afterthought if she would be that malleable everywhere he touched. "Please" she whispered as if she could divine the dangerous direction of his thoughts as his fingers tangled in her dark hair. Yet this time her words were not laced with the unmistakable undercurrent of fear, but something deeper darker._

 _"The soul is eternal, Captain. And I suspect yours isn't quite as black as you'd like me to believe."_

 _Dark hair._

 _He hadn't been expecting that._

A fist pounded on the door.

"Charles!" The voice sounded far off.

Vane grunted.

"Charles! Charles! Open the fucking door!"

"Quiet that bleedin' racket or I'll 'ave your 'ead!" A third voice shouted over the pounding.

With great effort, Vane decided it was not, in fact, his head pounding, but the door.

"Charles! For the love of great mother, church open the god damned door!"

With a wince, Vane swung himself into a sitting position rubbing a hand over his bleary eyes. He hadn't had that much to drink in, well…a damn while.

"Charles!" The third voice Vane registered as Bellamy barked again, "if you don't open the door I'll shoot ye myself!"

Vane glanced to his left registering Bellamy's glare before taking in the sight of a very naked Ginny, the perfect white globe of one pert breast exposed as she blinked blearily up from her spot curled against Bellamy's side.

Rubbing a hand over his face Vane stood with some effort and opened the door revealing none other than his first mate, fist poised even with Vane's nose.

"You knocked?" Vane growled, the gravel timbre in his voice conveying his displeasure at such an awakening.

Jack looked contrite for a moment before regaining his sense.

"Charles, we have a problem."

A creak. Something prickling at the back of her mind, urging her to open her eyes. Rolling over Kati dismissed the thought, it was nothing. After weeks of swaying back and forth along the Atlantic waves the lack of motion disturbed her, more than she cared to admit. Yet here they were, bobbing aimlessly somewhere.

Anywhere.

At first, she feared that they had reached their destination, yet when clearer thoughts prevailed she reasoned that it could not be so. She knew the voyage to the Carolinas was supposed to take the far side of four months, yet they had only been at sea for maybe two or was it three months?

With a silent yawn, Kati opened her eyes and squinted into the black gloom. A sound. There it was again, at the far end of the hold. That's all it was, yet the sudden noise after such a prolonged stillness made the breath stop in her chest. It couldn't be morning, it felt like mere hours ago that Jack Rackham had arrived to bring them their dinner. She had tried, unsuccessfully over the last few days to wring a scrap of information about their whereabouts from the man but to no avail. He had merely winked at her, applauded her for her attempt and swept from the room in a sashay of brightly colored fabric.

Did she imagine it?

The soft jingle of the lock, then the low groan of the door.

No, she wasn't imaging it, someone was coming.

"Lizzy, wake up," Kati whispered gently placing a hand over her sister's mouth in a subtle warning to keep quiet. "Lizzy," she whispered again, this time giving her a gentle shake.

Elizabeth sat up so fast they nearly bumped heads, eyes wide. "Whazzit?" Elizabeth muttered. Rubbing her eyes.

"Shhh, someone's here." Kati tried to keep her breathing calm as she peered into the darkness, an unmistakable snake of fear coiling in her gut. It wouldn't be Ms. Bonny, nor Jack Rackham. Each always announced their presence in some manner or another, though Rackham more cheerily than his red-haired companion. Their Captain? No. Kati immediately dismissed the thought. It wasn't him. Their Captain had a presence that was unmistakable and imposing, Kati felt she would have known for certain whether or not it was he that stood before them, even in the absence of light.

Her deductions gave her little comfort.

The door shut, then clicked.

"Who's there?" Her voice cracked on the last syllable.

No answer.

Breathing. Heavy Breathing.

Elizabeth began shivering, though this time not from the cold.

"I said who's there?" Her voice sounded stronger this time.

Hard footsteps moved slowly and cautiously across the room.

Kati scrambled to her feet, urging Elizabeth behind her.

A rustle, then the sound of a match striking. Light instantly filtered through the darkness. The soft glow of a single candle illuminating a man's face. One she'd seen, only once before. She knew him instantly, the tufts of dirty blond hair, the flat gaunt face, and wild black eyes. It was the man from the passageway with Jack Rackham, Hawk or Hawkins. She couldn't remember.

"What do you want?" Kati asked.

The man took a step forward, his hulking bulk making the space suddenly seem very narrow.

"Aye, so there be two. And what a lovely pair the two er ye make." He ran his tongue over his lower lip letting his eyes run the length of her tattered night dress from the tips of her dirty toes to her ragged bust. "We've been 'a sea 'a very long time," he said licking his lips again.

"I have heard absence makes the heart grow fonder," Kati said briskly, fighting to hide her growing fear. She knew he would only feed on it. She desperately wished she was wearing a proper dress or a cloak. With her body draped in the flimsy nightdress, she felt worse than naked. "I'm sure your captain would not appreciate this intrusion."

His cruel eyes alighted with amusement as he caught the shadow that flickered across her face. "A woman is a rarity 'a sea, so I be wonderin why 'e Cap'n has you locked away, why 'e's not sharing. Is 'e keepin whats between ye thighs for hisself?"

"We're close to shore, I would imagine owning to our decided lack of motion. Why do you yet remain aboard Mr. Hawk?" Kati began to back away from him, pushing Elizabeth along the wall behind her. Desperate to put distance between them and this man. Whatever he intended it wasn't good. He followed her step by step, the rancid tang of his alcohol tinged breath following ahead of him.

"Aye, so ye do remember me, Rosie. Had ta see ma pretty English Rosie again, just had ta wait ma chance." Kati shuddered, unwilling to let her mind run to conclusions.

"Ye seem cold as ice, but I bet ole' Hawk can warm ye right up." His pockmarked face broke into a menacing toothy grin.

Elizabeth chose that moment to bolt to the side, "Lizzy don't!" Kati screamed, but it was too late. Elizabeth let out a blood-curdling shriek just as the man's arm shot out and clamped a dirty hand around her thin waist, pinning her up against him.

"If you touch her so help me…" Kati spit the words at him all pretense of calm evaporated.

"Oooh little kitten has claws does she." He taunted. "Ole Hawk canna be a very capable man, more 'en enough to go around for the both of ye's."

Kati's spine stiffened.

"I think not sweeting. I like 'er right where she be." To punctuate his statement he wretched a dirty hand into Elizabeth's long golden hair, yanking it back with enough force to make her whimper. "O' yes, yer a pretty little thing."

"Let her go." Kati spat, pushing her fear aside.

"No." He began to laugh then, a deep bellied huff, jiggling the meat hanging from his sweaty frame. Still gripping Elizabeth's tangled hair, the man twisted her around. "Oh yes, 'e goin ter 'ave fun with you my sweet little lamb." The man gave Elizabeth a sharp tug, pulling her flush against his broad chest.

"Stop it!" Kati screamed.

"Come now lassie, no need a fear," then almost as an afterthought he hooted, "much," crowing as he reached down towards his belt, and produced a small carving knife that gleamed wickedly in the meager light.

Elizabeth's eyes went wide, terror reflected in their depths as the man brought the point against her throat. "All that lovely skin wuld be a right shame 'a tarnish it."

Without a second though Kati charged at him. Jumping on his back, grabbing, biting, and kicking at him anything to get him to get away from her.

The man let out a wail, more surprise than pain.

"Lizzy run!" Kati screamed still clinging to him as he twisted frantically from left to right trying to dislodge her.

"Get off me ye' right she-bitch!

She couldn't see, but still, she gripped him, fingers clawing to find purchase on the sweaty lumbering flesh.

Twisting to pull her off, Kati yelped as white hot pain lanced through her side and something heavy clattered to the floor. She was dimly aware of a sticky warmth before the man backed up and slammed her against one of the wooden support beams. Pain exploded behind her eyes as her head made contact with one of the metal couplings. Taking advantage, he reached out and wrapped a hand around her slim ankle, pulling her down. She had only a moment to brace herself before she crashed stiffly to stomach, knocking the wind from her burning lungs.

Breathing heavily through his nose the man's watery yellow-tinged eyes shifted to Elizabeth over Kati's prone form as if sharing a private joke.

"Kati!" Elizabeth cried. "Kati, please get up! Get up!" her voice breaking on a wailing.

"Ooh, yer sister is a feisty one lass." Elizabeth turned to run, but the man was too quick, grabbing her by the hair and tugging her across the floor to him once more.

Through a thick hazy fog, Kati slowly registered the unyielding hardness beneath her. Her side burned, and something warm and sticky dripped into her eyes.

She had to get to Lizzy.

Flinging her arms out wide she tried to push herself up, but her arms betrayed her, collapsing once more.

Hawk let out a guttural grunt, halfway between and laugh and a cough at her meager attempt. "What do you think sweetin'?" He asked turning his attention to Elizabeth, "I bet your sister 'll fight like a cat when I sink ma teeth into 'er. What do ya think?" To punctuate his query, he bit down hard on Elizabeth's exposed shoulder eliciting a scream of pain.

Slowly shaking her head, Kati tried again to pull herself up. Flinging her arms out wide, she let out a hiss as her pinky scrapped along something solid and cold.

His knife.

Hawk laughed a guttural grunt as Kati crawled along the floor away from him.

Taking advantage of Hawks brief moment of distraction Kati clasp her fingers around the small handle and pushed herself to her feet her back towards him, swaying slightly with the effort.

"Back for more eh?" Hawk cawed, laughing as though he'd made the funniest of jokes.

Kati blinked hard, trying to clear her field of vision from the encroaching black "Let her go!" She turned, brandishing the small knife towards him. It suddenly looked much smaller clasp in her hands.

Seeing her slash the small dagger he backed up a pace but continued to laugh. "With that? Ha! That wuldna even cut my bread!" A chilling smile pulling at his weather-worn features.

She swallowed, "I swear if you don't release her, I'll score you from naval to nose!"

"Ye sure ye know what ta do with that Luv? Would be a true shame ta miss." He surveyed the curve of her body crudely as he leaned in close to Elizabeth.

Kati charged him again, ducking below his out flung arm, she struck, driving the small knife into his shoulder with all her might, eliciting a howl from Hawk.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you both!" Reaching around behind him he grabbed her wrist and squeezed. The warm slick blood oozing from the wound on his shoulder coupled with the strength on her wrist forced her to lose her grip.

Elizabeth took that moment to flee. "Oh no, ye don't bitch!" The man yelled as he slapped her hard across the face, knocking her onto her back a few feet away from Kati.

"Lizzy!" She screamed.

Elizabeth barely stir.

He reached back and yanked the small knife from his shoulder flinging it away.

"I'll make ye pay for tha' ye stupid little whore!" Immediately he was on Elizabeth, his long dirty nails digging into the tender skin of her throat, squeezing and choking.

Using the last dregs of her strength, Kati staggered as she moved forward and threw herself on him again. Kicking, clawing, scratching, and screaming. Anything she could do to get him to let her sister go.

He let out a howl of frustration but wouldn't loosen his hands.

Kati was desperate, Lizzy's eyes were turning red and her struggles weakening. Without a second thought, Kati lowered her mouth to the man's ear and sunk her teeth into the soft, warm flesh. Immediately the sharp, hot taste of copper filled her mouth. She held out, pulling and thrashing, eventually separating flesh and tearing the skin.

He screamed then, a high-pitched howl of pain. Letting go of Elizabeth he reached both hands up to his tattered ear. "My ear!" He screamed.

Rolling off of him Kati failed her arms out wide, crawling forward on her stomach, her fingers searching frantically for the knife once more. Rapidly the man was on her again. With a snarl, he let loose a harsh kick to her side making her scream. As he threw himself on her, the force rolled them to the side, crashing them into the wall.

"You stupid bitch!" Hawk snarled looming over her.

"Damn it! Where was that knife!" Kati cried, hot tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks, blurring her vision and making her eyes burn. Reaching out to the side she clawed along the floor, oblivious to the ripping pain in her fingers. A glint of silver against the wall. There!

Without a seconds hesitation, she wrapped her hand around the weapon and jammed it up into the side of his neck.

He froze, stunned.

"Well fuck me." He let out before he crumpled to the floor, a harsh, wet, gurgle falling from his lips then stillness.

She couldn't move. She just stared for what felt like ages at the lifeless body before her. Only the sound of Elizabeth's heavy coughing shook her from her thoughts. Scrambling to her feet, away from the body Kati crawled to Elizabeth's side. Catching the front of her dress in her hands, she gave her sister a gentle shake and tugged her into her arms. "Lizzy! Lizzy! Are you alright?" Elizabeth gazed up at her in mute disbelief.

"I'm so sorry. So sorry." She croaked as her fingers fluttered over her helplessly, checking for any severe damage.

Just then the door crashed open flooding the hold with harsh light. As his eyes adjusted to the dim Charles Vane took in the image before him.

The sight that greeted him was one he never expected.

The crumpled body of Hawk Hillman lay directly in front of the door. The floor was a mess of overturned barrels, and a dark sticky substance he strongly suspected was blood. Yet to each of these items he only paid the barest attention. As his eyes swept the chamber all his focus was drawn to the slight girl now staring him down unflinchingly, the proper Miss Katriona Annesley. Her once white nightshift was drenched down the front in dark stains, her hair a wild mess of curls and a thick crimson smear streaked across her lips and chin, running down her neck.

"Jesus," Anne spat somewhere behind him.

"It would appear that our little English rose has thorns," Jack whispered, all humor gone from his voice.

Kati pushed herself to a standing position in front of Elizabeth, one bloodied hand clenched into a fist, the other brandishing the little knife.

Vane met her gaze. Assessing. He had not expected this. Had she done all of this? "What happened here?"

Kati met his ice blue gaze without flinching, her voice laced with disdain, "We were the recipients of your hospitality" she said between sobbing breaths.

His jaw tightened as if she had struck him an unexpected blow.

He took a step forward.

"Stay away from me!" She yelled giving the little weapon a slice forward slice for emphasis.

Her hiss of pain upon the movement and the hand that closed along her side did not go unnoticed by Vane. "Give that to me," he commanded.

"What, so you can attempt the same?" She offered, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Give it to me."

"No." She held her ground, though the effort to do so was not lost on him.

Vane took a deep breath "I meant you no harm."

"No harm?...No harm?!" She choked out on a disbelieving laugh. "You abducted us, murdering everyone in your wake, throw us in here, and you mean us no harm?" She scoffed swaying slightly. "Go to hell."

Vane's gaze hardened. "Where do you expect to go Miss Annesley? You are on MY ship, under the watch of MY men, under MY orders in the middle of the fucking ocean."

During the exchange, Kati had been so focused on Vane that she missed the shadowy figure slip from behind Rackham making its way over to Elizabeth's crumpled body. "Do as he says," came the calm voice.

"Wha-," Kati whipped around. The slender figure of Anne Bonnie, her face obscured beneath the brim of a large hat crouched next to Elizabeth's prone form.

"No! Please! I…" Kati choked.

"Miss Annesley," the soothing voice of Jack Rackham began, "She needs a doctor," he said letting his concerned gaze sweep her form "as I suspect you do as well." Jack made a few steps towards her, and she didn't flinch away.

"Just please do not hurt her." Kati took a deep breath before letting the knife clatter to the floor along with the last dregs of her strength. From her knees she met Vane's eyes, once more refusing to let him see her tears fall.

"So it is your sister then." Vane said coldly.

In that instant she hated him.

A moment later Rackham was at her side, fingers feathering over her attempting to assess her wounds. "Charles, we need to get them out of here" a worried frown creasing his brows.

"The little one's unconscious," Anne added quietly from the corner. "Someone will have to carry her."

Closing his eyes, Vane took a deep breath, "how many men are ashore?"

"All," Jack replied, "well, at least we believed it to be all."

"You better be right this time," his low-pitched growl seemed to resonate all the way through to Kati's tired bones.

"Anne, can you carry her?" Vane asked motioning towards Elizabeth.

Her curt nod acknowledged her assent.

"Jack, clean this up and get rid of the body. We'll be back by nightfall."

"Charles…"

Cutting him off Vane continued, "Give her your Jacket. We can't go ashore with her looking like the fucking witch of Billingsgate."

Without a word Jack shrugged out of his coat, handing its silky softness to Kati without glancing back at Vane.

She gingerly took the proffered garment before stealing a glance at the man standing against the wall next to her. "Thank you, Mr. Rackham," she murmured, dabbing covertly at her overflowing eyes with the expensive linen.

"The pleasure is mine Miss. Annesley," he whispered with a small smile.

A moment later Vane's sharp eyes were on her, "get up, we need to go."

Kati grunted with pain as she made to stand before collapsing back against the wall, hand clutching at the darkening linen of her side.

At that moment two sets of eyes turned on Vane, he was well aware of the accusation in their depths. Grinding his teeth, he took an almost imperceptible step in Kati's direction. In an instant, she went scrambling backward on elbows and heels like a wounded crab.

Still glaring daggers at him, she again tried to stagger to her feet with marginal success.

Vane slowly began to advance on her again. Although he didn't so much as twitch a muscle in her direction, his intentions were clear.

Good God, he meant to carry her. "Stay away from me."

Unnerved by his inscrutable gaze, she began to back away from him. "What are you doing?"

"You can't stand" he replied, matching her retreat step by step.

"Is that so?" She grunted out, "I seem to be managing just fine."

He reached forward suddenly and tugged her towards him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck. Caught off guard by the unexpected movement, Kati let out a squeak, the sudden movement jarring her side painfully. Before waiting for her reply, he scooped her up like a doll in strong, muscle corded arms.

She went stiff as a board.

Just as she made to protest a soft disdainful voice whispered in her ear, "Don't make me drop you."

Her heart throbbed painfully.

She hated him.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, his eyes still glittered with anger.


	9. Chapter 9

**And just because tonight was the season finale, I had to post another chapter. Even though Black Sails has officially ended, I still plan to finish this story because I'm in love the characters too much to leave it undone. As always your comments inspire me! xo**

The feeling was foreign to her.

Her father had never carried her in his arms, never tucked her tenderly into bed, never smoothed her hair or brushed his lips against her brow when he thought her asleep. She still cherished the memory of her tenth birthday when her uncle had bestowed a shy kiss upon her cheek. Such affection was rare.

Now here she was being carried as though she were weightless by the very man she despised.

Her side throbbed painfully.

She tried to squirm out of his arms. His iron grip permitted her to do no more than wiggle to a more dignified position. She twisted slightly in Vane's arms; her gaze turned towards the distant horizon. The line of his chest against her side offering little room for movement. She felt vulnerable, raw, aching all over. A single tear dripped off her nose. It embarrassed her beyond measure to succumb to such worthless emblems of hysteria, yet she couldn't stop the silent tears that continued to spill out of her eyes. She promised that she would not let him see her cry, and maybe, if she tucked her chin down and turned her face towards his chest he wouldn't see.

Vane couldn't see her, but he felt the warmth along his collar bone and felt the tiny quakes from her fitful form. Her determined efforts to hide her pain and fear tugged at something inside him more than the tears themselves.

"You surprise me Miss Annesley," he said, breaking the awkward silence.

Kati swallowed past the lump in her throat. "That's not the first time you've mentioned as such Captain Vane."

Their eyes met.

Her voice faltered.

His forbidding image blurred.

He wasn't sure why he'd said that. In some way maybe he'd meant to reassure her. Vane turned his head away from her, tucking her head back underneath his chin. He understood the cost of her tears. She was not a woman to weep lightly or without cause. Melting back into the hard line of his body Kati pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the answering thunder of his heart.

By the time they reached the shoreline, the girl was asleep; her raven head tucked securely against his chest, one hand curled lightly at the nape of his neck. For a moment he just looked at her. Her snarled, tangled hair spilling over his forearms. The caked blood smeared down her front. The fresh tracks down her cheeks from the torrent of tears that had washed away some of the grime. His gaze strayed from her swollen cheek to her throat, where a smattering of dark, angry bruises mottled her pale flesh.

There was strength in her. The strength he had not fully appreciated, that this slight girl could kill one of his men. If she hadn't, he knew the fate that would have awaited her. Hawk had been a bastard, preferring women's pained screams to their pleasurable sighs. She had managed it, in the end, saving both herself and her sister.

Vane happened a glance at the small blonde bundle balanced in Anne's arms before turning back to his charge.

His gaze drew back to her neck for a moment before his thumb glided over the discoloration.

Her throat vibrated on a note of pain.

"Right," Jack's voice broke the ensuing silence just as the tiny rowboat hit the shore. "I'll meet you back here tomorrow night."

Vane jerked a nod in his direction before making to stand. He braced her against one hip, his strong arms cradling Kati with something akin to tenderness. Jack stared at him from his seat in the boat, his penetrating gaze traveling between Charles and Anne. The shadow of reproach in his eyes was not a figment of Vane's imagination.

Pain.

Everywhere.

Every movement hurt.

Every motion making her want to cry out.

Maybe, if she closed her eyes tight, she could wish herself back home, back to the warm confines of her bed and her perfectly ordinary life. Yes, maybe it was just a dream. But the pain was there, blinding and bright. So was something else, a warmth enveloping her. Strong and holding her close. Maybe everything would be ok. With a soft whimper and a shiver, she let the ensuing blackness take her once more.

The trek took longer than before. Kati though small was no light and fragile creature like the little sister who currently was safely ensconced in Anne's arms. Though she made no sound, Vane could feel the quick rise and fall of her breast against his own. The weight of her body and every slight curve and line of it spoke eloquently of a woman and not of a child.

He was breathing a little unevenly himself by the time they reached the crest to Bellamy's small cabin, though his reasons for doing so were purely physical. Few men called upon to carry approximately a hundred and twelve pounds over a sandy beach, across several embankments, and up a steep hillside trail would not have done the same. It seemed a long way, yet the girl was fast asleep and for some reason he didn't have the heart to put her down.

They moved without torches, aided only by the moon's pale glow, holding Kati's slight figure as he continued the climb upwards. Above him, stars came out one by one, and as the night wind arose and blew sharply off the Atlantic, the girl in his arms made a small sound and began to shiver in the cold air. Vane drew the large folds of Jack's coat up around her, drawing one end over her head to shield her from the harsh wind.

They were almost there. He wondered vaguely if Anne's burden felt as heavy, but he did not pause to inquire after her. His muscles were beginning to ache, and as they approached Bellamy's' door, he was glad that he would soon be rid of his burden.

Vane knocked on the door a short time later. Expecting a harsh send-off, he was more than mildly surprised when it creaked open a moment later.

"I was expecting ye'd be back," the older man crowed. Taking in the two bundles Bellamy let out a long suffering sigh, "the bleedin fuck ye do this time."

Vane merely scowled, trudging in and making room for Anne behind him. "I need your help."

"Course ye do."

Stepping closer to Vane he took in Kati's mottled and bloodied face. "Jesus, what 'he fuck did ye do?"

"I didn't do anything," Vane growled through clenched teeth.

"Ye sure as fuck didn't."

"Enough!" Ginny's harsh whisper startled the two men and drew a look of mild surprise from Anne. Her eyes glanced towards the two unconscious females before giving a sympathetic nod toward the bed. "Put em down. I'll send for the doctor."

"No!" Vane barked. This had already gotten out of hand, and he had no desire to let anyone else learn of the girl's presence.

"This is beyond my skill," she whispered glancing once more at the dried blood at Kati's side.

Bellamy rubbed a hand over his face, "it'll take Smith an hour, maybe two ta get 'ere" he said after a moment. "Get 'em cleaned up, when he gets 'ere pretend as she's yer wife and a beatin got out ta hand." After a moment he sighed, "judging by the looks a her, that don't be far from it."

Anne choose that moment to speak, "and the little one?"

Bellamy met Vane's gaze, " 'e knows when ta keep quiet when its worth 'is while. Make sure it tis." The statement brokered no disagreement.

"Get gone ye old goat! I've got ta handled." Ginny whispered, trying to shoo Bellamy out the door.

"I should do tha same ta you, ye bleedin wench." Came the reply, though the harshness of the words was at odds with the decidedly softened tone.

Ginny glanced over her should and rolled her chocolate eyes, "'Aye ye try tha and see ole man."

With a quiet mutter, Bellamy grabbed his hat and was out the door, leaving the four figures alone.

"We've a wash bin out the back and some old rags by the basin there," pointing to indicate whereabouts. "I'll take ye te kindly helping me fill it, then I aspect you ta get gone as well. You've done enough."

The retort died on Vane's tongue at the look she sent his direction.

"Alright." Carefully Vane made his way over to the bed, bundling Kati down without ceremony and standing back quickly. Anne moved more slowly, and instead of depositing the girl, sat down in one of the nearby chairs, cradling Elizabeth to her.

"Well?" Vane retorted impatiently.

Anne observed him dryly. The girl's small hands were curled tightly in her long red locks, though Vane suspected that was not the only reason why she was slow to relinquish her burden.

At that moment Ginny's head popped around the corner, "Well, move yer ass and get tha kettle on!"

With a glare at her shapely bottom, he moved to comply, not entirely missing the smirk on Anne's face.

"Miss Annesley." Someone was touching her, shaking her gruffly. "Miss Annesley," the voice came again. She pressed her eyes shut as if to deny what was happening as if she could pretend it was just another dream. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, gray, and smoky with bewilderment.

Vane wasn't sure what she would do. He was prepared for her to scream, to slap him, to curse him. He was not prepared for her fingertips to reach up and lightly graze his cheek. Shock registered in his light eyes for the briefest of moments before they hardened again. "You need to get up," his voice came out far harsher than he had intended.

She immediately drew away from him and sucked in a breath as though burned, "it's not a dream," her voice said flatly, devoid of emotion.

"Come on Miss," a third voice, softer sounded behind him. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Clean.

Clean.

Would that she could be again.

Sitting up slowly Kati moved as though her body was stuck in honey, slowly, and thickly and with considerable effort. Glancing towards the fire, she saw Anne Bonny sitting in a chair cradling Lizzy, and for a moment her heart stopped.

"Is she…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"She's alright," Anne's rough voice brought tears to her eyes. "They sent for a doctor; he'll look her over."

She met the woman's eyes and offered her a small smile, earning a curt nod in return.

"Miss?" The third voice came, softer this time. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Kati took her in, from her sweetly freckled face to her slightly crooked smile. She looked warm and inviting and friendly, all the things she so desperately needed at that moment.

Ginny turned to Vane, gesturing with the rag in her hand. "You, out."

Unable to control herself Kati cracked a grin, amused despite everything at the way the girl ordered the notorious captain about. Yes, she thought. She would like her.

Without a word, Vane turned on his heel and disappeared out the screen door.

"Now Miss," the girl said turning towards Kati once more. "Let's see ye outta that rag."

Tentatively Kati took a step forwards, "there's a good gal. That's it."

The strangeness of the situation was not lost on her. She was covered in gore from head to toe, in a strange house, with a sprightly girl who looked to be about her age ordering her about as though she were coaxing a milk cow to pasture. Her smile was warm and inviting, and the look of concern in her eyes seemed genuine, and god help her she was so tired. Maybe for just a few moments, she would let someone else tell her what to do.

Her hands her gentle as she turned Kati around and began to peel the stiff linen of the tattered nightdress off her frame, the fabric sticking in places as it pulled away from her skin. No one, not even her ladies maids had seen her in such a state of undress, for they always turned away as she removed her draws and changed before bed. Yet the girl worked with such quick efficiency it took Kati a moment to realize that the dress was gone and the girl was using a rag to wash away the dried blood.

"We'll get ye into the tub in a moment Luv," she said chattering away to herself. "Let's just get most a this off ye, so that ye won't be sittin in it."

Kati merely nodded, eyes wide.

"Oh," the gasp from the girl startled her. "Luv, ye'r hands."

The girl gently reached for her fingers turning them over.

Were those her hands? They couldn't be. Slowly Kati extended her fingers, taking in the jagged, torn nails and the deep cuts. What would her father say? " _Shameful!"_ She could almost hear the exclamation. Immediately she balled her hands back into fists.

" 'ere Luv, let me." Ever so gently Ginny led her over to a washbowl situated on the counter. "It may burn a' bit, but we got ta get those cuts cleaned."

Gently the girl placed her hands in the warm water. Kati gave an involuntary hiss but didn't flinch away. " 'as a good girl." Her words felt almost as good as a soothing balm.

After a moment the girl gently lead her over to the corner, "alright love in 'ta the tub. Mind, it may burn a bit."

Kati looked at her blankly, then slowly complied. The water was, warm, and it burned along her skin igniting all the tiny cuts and bruises, making them sting. But oh the water felt glorious too. Immediately Ginny went to work, gently washing and soaping her arms, and her back, working her way around Kati's body, moving limbs left and right as though she were a child once more. The soap burned, serving to wash away the events of the past months.

After a long stretch of moments, Ginny set to word on her hair, chattering away quietly as she went. "Ye 'ave such beautiful hair, though I can 'is been a wee while since it 'ta seen a comb no doubt."

Kati was silent.

"I'll be as gentle as I canna Luv," Ginny said with a small smile.

She was true to her word, at least as much as she was able. It took two large handfuls of lard and several washings, but she was finally able to disentangle the mass of sable hair. All the while Kati sat as stoic and still as a painting, only letting out the occasion hiss as a particular snarl yanked along the large cut where her head had slammed into the metal coupling.

"There," Ginny nearly beamed with a satisfied smile. "And still hair on ye head to boot."

At this Kati couldn't help but smile, "thank you," she said after a moment. "I wasn't sure if it would ever get untangled."

Ginny's brow wrinkled for a moment in consternation. Her speak was good, too good to be from these parts. "Most anything is possible Luv, with some work that tis."

"What's your," Kati coughed, her voice feeling raw and dry in her throat. "Your name, I'm…I'm sorry but I.."

Ginny interrupted her, "Ginny Luv."

"Ginny," Kati said, rolling the sound on her tongue. "Ginny, thank you."

The girl merely smiled. "Now, let's get ye something 'a wear. "avn't much, but I do have a proper dress."

"I would give anything," Kati smiled broadly.

Disappearing for a moment, Kati fingered the scratchy lines of the cloth she was wrapped in, hissing at the sharp, immediate pain in her pinky finger. Turning her hands over once more she noticed the large piece of skin flapping from the side of her pinky. The jagged slice looked angry and raw. She would need a stitch, maybe several. When had…

The knife. When she grabbed it and… An uneven hiccup escaped her. Then another. Before she could cup a hand over her mouth to stifle them, a torrent of sobs burst from her throat.

"He's dead. He can't hurt you now."

The voice surprised her out of her thoughts.

It was Anne Bonny. She had been so caught up in Ginny's ministrations and her musings that she had forgotten the woman was still there, still gently rocking Elizabeth by the fire.

Their eyes met. "He's not worth your tears. You did what you had to do to survive, never forget that."

When Kati lifted her damp-lashed eyes again they were clear.

" 'ere we are," Ginny said sailing back into the room. "Is not much, but it'll do." Her arms held a bundle of slate gray muslin, and Kati thought it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

Vane stood out on the small deck and gazed out towards the black sea, a puff of sweet smoke swirling from the end of his Cheroot. The wind was picking up, and the air carried the unmistakable hint of brine. There would be a storm soon. And it wasn't just his ship that would feel its wrath. His callused fingers clenched against the rough wood of the porch rail, tensing and flexing. If Bellamy was right and Eleanor had actually fucked him, then these girls were a very lucrative bargaining chip. Bargaining chip, the thought brought a wry, humorless smile to his lips. He had treated them no better than that over the course of the last months' time and tonight's events proved it. Vane scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to physically wipe away his frustration and the prick of another odd emotion that swirled just out of reach. Taking a moment he closed his eyes and leaned back against one of the brown oaken porch pillars, yet it wasn't a moment's respite that awaited him, but accusatory grey eyes that filled his mind's eye. The breeze against his skin feeling like the light ghosting of a touch against his cheek. Rubbing the back of his hand roughly over his skin he tried to wipe away the sensation with a frown. He was sorry for what had happened. But it was an unfortunate set of circumstance, which at this point couldn't be helped. But that wasn't entirely true, his own lack of foresight and arrogance had seen to it. The faint underpinnings of guilt pricked at him. The emotion was foreign. Vane took another drag from the sweet Cheroot dangling from his fingers.

The night was quiet, save for the ever-present sound of the sea and the soft, incomprehensible words from Ginny inside. Katriona Annesley had begrudgingly earned some of his respect. She wasn't fearless, not by a stretch, but she was…he thought for a moment trying to find the right word. She fought hard to hide her fear from him and was so devoted to her little sister. Vane believed that it wasn't her personal security that sprang first to her mind at a particularly dangerous moment, but that of the golden haired girl not far from her side. She said that she would do anything for her, yet he hadn't actually believed her. Not at first. Yet when he'd opened the hold door and first saw her covered in gore like the apparition from one of the many stories told to him as a cabin boy he'd been gob smacked. The fear and terror in her eyes suddenly masked and pushed aside by the need to protect something that she treasured. He'd heard love espoused many times and in many forms. From the dry throats of men receiving their first tankard of ale after an unusually long dry spell. From the lips of harlots and whores cooing seductively into his ear as he brought them pleasure. He'd never heard it from _her_ , but in her eyes, he'd seen…

Vane left the thought where it best remained.

When it came down to it, love was a noble notion, but the truth was never quite as noble as the belief. Too often, when necessary, self-preservation won out. Unbidden his thoughts drifted back to Miss Annesley a few feet away, maybe, he acknowledged, not in all cases. A few minutes Vane heard the unmistakably clap of horse hooves up the path.

A few minutes later Vane heard the unmistakable clap of horse hooves up the path.

The warmth of the fire and Ginny's soft ministrations had lulled Kati into a daze, staring into the licking red and orange flames. Anne was seated in much the same position, though minus her earlier burden, her expression unusually pensive. Elizabeth, cleaned and resting was curled up in the corner of the small four posted bed, breathing lightly.

Everyone but Anne jumped when the door swung open and the doctor entered, trailed immediately by Bellamy and then Vane. Although the physician's questioning gaze immediately went to her, Bellamy stepped forward. "As ye see Dr. Smith, nothing but an accident 'is all."

Dr. Smith had both the stature and demeanor of a small, ill-tempered frog. He glowered up at Bellamy over the top of the steel spectacles riding low on his pug nose.

Kati stood before the men, her black hair damp, her plain muslin dress clinging to her body in all the wrong places. She curled her fingers to her chest as if to shield both them and herself from the Dr.'s assessing gaze. The man's bushy brows creased in concern as he took in her bruised face and the myriad of cuts and scrapes across the skin he could see.

"That remains to be seen. Sir," he inquired turning his hardening gaze to Vane. "Has your wife by chance fallen from a horse? Or maybe had an accident in the kitchen?"

Hampered by exhaustion, it took Kati a moment to process the man's words. Wife? Wife! She nearly chocked on her indignation.

"Dr. Smith, if ye would…"

"Ah-ha!" he crowed, cutting Bellamy off mid-sentence. "Or would you like to suggest that she slipped and fell upon your fist?" The mix of anger and resignation showed bright beneath his bushy brows. "Purely by happen stance I'm sure," he added directing his accusatory gaze to Vane.

Vane had managed not to look at her, though in that instance he met her glare, her gray eyes a reflection of the steely blue-grey dress she now wore.

It was going to be a long night.


	10. Chapter 10

Vane was right. It had been a long night.

The pale glow of dawn was just beginning to stretch her light fingers across the cloudy sky when Dr. Smith took his leave.

Vane watched the doctor drive away. The man thought the worst of him, but could he honestly blame him?

When he'd re-entered the small cabin on Bellamy's heels, he was struck by the difference he'd observed in Katriona Annesley. The blood and gore were gone, but so too was the wavering uncertainty in her eyes. She stood in the center of the room, no longer a lost little girl, but the epitome of the sea witch he'd likened her too earlier. He'd been a fool to compare her as such when naught but blood had drawn the comparison. Now, with her long black hair hanging well past her waist in damp curling waves and the blue-grey of her eyes mirroring the color of the stormy Atlantic, he realized his mistake.

Vane watched, partly shielded by the good doctor as she turned those very eyes on him. When Bellamy had tried to argue his cause the word wife had made her choke. Her gray-eyed gaze was so bright, so incisive, that he nearly ducked further before remembering that he had no cause to. At the doctor's insistence, she'd allowed him to examine her, at least the parts immediately visible while the men were in the room. She appeared ramrod straight, but upon closer inspection, he noticed the forced attention of her shoulders and the barely perceptible wince that signified her pain at every poke and prod from the man's fingers.

Vane strode to the edge of the porch, watching the doctor's carriage until it disappeared down the rise. He knew he was a bastard, but the damage to her body had not been the work of his hand. Each accusatory glance thrown his way by Dr. Smith upon the discovery of a new injury he had borne with a hard gaze and steely glare. When the man had parted her hair to get a better look at the gash along her crown, Vane had earned a proper dressing down as a right ferocious bastard. He was impressed by the man's gal, lesser men shrunk underneath his stare, yet Dr. Smith had seen too many wounds tended, and too much blood spilled to be afraid of a man like him. Vane wasn't fazed by the good doctor. However, when she looked at him with the same quiet accusation, it was he who glanced away first.

After the doctor's initial inspection the men had been relegated to the porch to wait. It had taken over two hours to tend each open cut and scape and gash that marred her skin. Between the wound on her head, the slice on her finger, and the cut along her side she'd required 15 stitches. Gripping one of the posters of the bed, Kati suffered in white-faced silence while the good doctor drew the needle through her skin, stitching the jagged ends together. While she had born the mending with stone-faced silence, it had been her sisters sobbing trailing out through the open windows in the quiet night that had threatened to deafen them all.

The sooner they were out to sea, the better. Vane felt more caged within the confines of this cabin than he ever did within the walls of The Ranger.

A few moments later the sound of the rough door scrapping open behind him drew him away from his musings.

"I expect as ye'll be gone by tonight?"

It was Bellamy, the man's words were not a question.

"As soon as it's full dark," Vane replied without glancing behind him.

With a heavy sigh, Bellamy joined him on the balcony. The two men stood in companionable silence for a few moments watching the coming storm before Bellamy spoke again. "What ye goin ta do?"

To the East, he suspected the sun was beginning to rise, however, the angry black clouds blanketing the sky prevented its rays from heralding the beginning of a new day. The abysmal light only deepened Vane's scowl and accentuated the hollows beneath his eyes.

Producing a worn flask Bellamy extended the item to Vane, a look close to pity touching his weathered feature.

Vane took it without pretense, taking a long swig.

"There's only so much a' men a' take in one night," Bellamy quipped, taking a swig himself.

Vane snorted.

Bellamy leaned back against one of the pillars supporting the thatched roof, crossing his short legs at the ankles. "I don't a' believe Smith'll say a word."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Vane said turning one eye on his old comrade.

Bellamy cracked a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "ye'll already fucked, I've a no need to ram ye further." When Vane continued to scowl Bellamy's gaze turned serious, "ye need ta take better care 'a ye cargo Charles."

"I'm aware," Vane said rubbing the palms of his hands over his tired eyes.

The silence stretched between them once more as the first crack of lightning sounded out to sea.

"Aye. The girls are sleepin, ye'd be best ta do the same."

Bellamy turned on his heal and retreated into the confines of the one-room cabin. Vane wasn't in such a hurry, preferring the brine scented wind of the coming storm to the stifling confines of the room.

A few hours later Vane slipped into the small cabin, easing the door shut behind him. His eyes burned with exhaustion. He hesitated, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Though the windows were shuttered against the wind, the room hadn't been abandoned to complete darkness. A single wax taper was burning low in an iron sconce fixed to the wall on the far side. Taking a step forward he narrowly missed stumbling into the large tub still located in the center of the cabin. Vane glanced around the room, assessing his options for sleep. The cot he'd slept in the night before was no longer vacant but occupied by both Ginny and Bellamy. He was vaguely surprised that the old man's wheezing hadn't awakened her. Anne was still folded into the chair in front of the fire; her wide-brimmed hat pulled low over her eyes to shut out the light from the dying embers. He was still staring at Anne when he heard a low moan and the distinct rustle of something stirring from the four-poster bed. Turning around he focused on the bundle of sheets and its two occupants.

Instead of lying neatly on her back, Katriona Annesley was sprawled on her stomach among the tangled sheets. The worn length of one corner had ridden up slightly at the bottom, exposing the length of her slender calf. Vane allowed his gaze to wander. She slept with her face turned toward the gentle glow of the candle, the generous sweep of her lashes brushing her cheeks. Sleep had erased the strain that had furrowed her brow and eased the weight of responsibility she always seemed to carry on her slender shoulders. Though, maybe not entirely Vane mused taking in the fair-haired child tucked securely against her side. They were so different the girl and her sister, the younger one all fair hair and golden skin, the other in stark contrast. With her jet black hair, slate eyes, and skin the color of milk they might as well be night and day. With a frown Vane shook his head and grabbing the corner of the sheet pulled it down, tucking it securely into the mattress. With a grunt, he took the only option available to him, an older wicker rocker a few feet from the headboard. With a groan of pleasure, he lowered himself onto the seat and closed his eyes and within moments was fast asleep.

Kati opened her eyes, slipping from sleep into wakefulness with barely a shift in breathing. For a few disoriented seconds, she believed she was back on The Ranger. It wasn't so much noise that had awakened her as the absence of it. The rain had stopped, its cessation magnifying the silence to deafening proportions.

She sat up, feeling dwarfed by the massive four-poster bed. She had been so tired, and the chamber had been so warm when she'd finally drifted off to sleep that she had thrown the extra quilt over Elizabeth. But now the fire was waning on the hearth, and a faint chill clung to the air. She reached for the quilt, but her hand froze in midair. Where was everyone? Her assessing gaze took in her surroundings. Anne Bonny was nowhere in sight. Ginny was gone, and so too was the man who had accompanied Doctor Smith. The only figure in the room was hunched over in a worn wicker rocker a few feet from where she now sat. With the other figures seemingly accounted for, that only left one, Captain Vane.

The ghost of a sound jerked her attention back to the chair. Was that a light snore? Or was it just the wind? No. I couldn't be the wind. Was the Captain genuinely asleep? She licked her parched lips, surprised she could hear anything at all over the frantic thudding of her heart. She wanted nothing more than to be rid of this man; perhaps this was their chance to flee finally. Mustering her courage, she tossed back the blankets, slid her feet to the floor, and crept across the cold wood. She was halfway to the chair when a loud sigh escaped the slumbering figure. She recoiled, a gasp of fright lodged in her throat. With trepidation she checked the figure once more, the steady rise and fall of his chest reassuring her that he still slumbered. She had to hurry. She took a deep breath and crossed the rest of the floor in three determined strides. A collection of worn leather shoes sat piled near the door, sifting through the pile she found four that appeared small in size, though still markedly too large for both her and Elizabeth's feet without the aid of stockings. Grabbing an oversized coat from the hook by the door she glanced out the window to see if anyone was outside.

The balcony was deserted.

"Good evening, Miss Annesley. Going somewhere?" As that mocking voice came out of the shadows behind her, Kati whirled around and let out a surprised shriek, stumbling backward. As the rough wood of the wall bit into her back, the pilfered items slipped from her hands and tumbled to the floor.

"Sweet Christ, woman," he said hoarsely. "What are you trying to do? Wake the dead?"

"I wish it was you who were dead!" She yelled bending to pick up one of the scattered shoes.

He tracked her progress without moving a muscle, his eyes glittering with unmistakable amusement. "You're not the first woman to wish me such a fate."

With a frustrated yell, she cocked her arm, shoe in hand.

"Careful now, you may wake your sister."

Caroline stopped, scowling for the briefest moment. "Lizzy has the greatest ability to sleep through just about anything." Vane barely had a moment to consider her words before Kati flung the worn piece of leather at this head.

Ducking at the last second, Vane narrowly missed a knock by the offending article of clothing as it sailed across the room.

Vane righted himself with as much dignity as he could muster. His eyes narrowed, "not bad aim Miss Annesley." Though her eyes still glittered with anger, Vane did not miss the hiss of pain and the hand that immediately clutched her side. He studied her for a moment before folding his arms over his chest and asking gently, "where did you think you were going to go?"

Kati swallowed hard; she wasn't sure where they were or what she would do once they made it out the front door. Her only thought was to get as far away from this man as possible.

Blue eyes met grey, and neither said a word.

Vane was the first to break the tense silence. "I didn't mean for this to happen to you."

Kati awkwardly folded her arms over her chest, more thankful than she could say that for the first time in months she was wearing a proper dress and not her flimsy nightgown. "What did you honestly expect? You locked us away for weeks and treated us no better than animals aboard your ship."

Vane sucked in a sharp breath, but she continued. "After what that man did, what he tried to do, is that all you have to say?"

Vane felt an uncomfortable sensation similar to guilt settle in his belly.

Her honest, searching, gaze seared his, "is it?" she whispered as she blinked her eyes rapidly to contain the moisture in their depths. After a moment she turned away to face the window, digging her broken fingernails into the palms of her hand.

Vane was uncomfortably relieved to be free of her gaze.

"Can you honestly blame me for trying to get my sister and I away from you as soon as possible?"

The silence stretched between them.

"Believe of me what you like Miss Annesley, but it would be highly disadvantageous to both you and your sister should you try any ill-advised escape measure."

With a rustle of skirts, she turned to face him once more. Before she realized what she was doing Kati's hand flung out and slapped him hard across the cheek.

Vane sucked in a sharp breath but he did not move a muscle.

"You're a bastard," she said as the first few tears slipped from her eyes.

Raising her hand a second time she made to strike him again. However, Vane was prepared. In a flash of movement, he'd shoved her backward. Kati let out a pained cry as her back connected roughly with the wooden door frame. Before she could try breath, Vane had both of her wrists manacled above her head in one of his large hands, his other wrapped around the slender column of her throat. She blinked up at him through a veil of tears, mesmerized by the feral glitter of his eyes. After a moment she began to struggle against him.

"Let me go! Let go!"

Every breath was a struggle.

"Please! God, please stop. Please just stop!" Her tears came faster now, nearly choking her with their intensity. As her sobbing increased her struggles began to lessen until she sagged like rag doll in his harsh grasp, her forehead coming to rest against the warm satin of his collarbone.

"Please stop," she whispered silently as her slight frame continued to quake.

Recognition and regret slowly dawned in Vane's eyes, leaving them wary and heavy-lidded. His grip tightened painfully for the briefest of moments before the pressure on her wrists and her throat softened, then gentled as she sank into his chest. He still held both her wrists in his, but as he released her throat his large hand reached out, almost on its own accord to smooth her hair, its silky smooth texture in stark contrast to his calloused palm. He only allowed the briefest of touches before he slammed it into a fist.

Pressing her cheek to the warm, broad haven of his chest, Kati closed her eyes. As the world slowly righted itself and her trembling subsided, she wanted nothing more than believe that no harm could befall her, to forget, even for one irregular heartbeat the events of the last 24 hours. Distantly she registered the turn of a lock and the bang of a door.

"Charles what in god's name are you doing?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi All! I am officially the worst. For those of you who have stuck with this story, I am eternally grateful! More updates coming soon!**

 **X**

It took Vane a moment to realize that the girl was in his arms and not because she wanted to be. Her slap had caught him off guard, and he had moved on instinct. It was only after she had ceased her struggles when his hand was around the slender column of her throat and his grip bruising her wrists that he realized what he was doing. The heavy feeling in his gut that he had begun to know as guilt over the last few weeks started to unfurl once more. Recognizing the feeling for what it was Vane started register other sensations. The light scent of lavender in his nostrils. The tickle along his skin as a long lock of ebony hair caught around his forearm and last, the press of something firm yet soft hitting at the base of his throat. The prickle of his conscience continued, yet the very thought that he felt anything but indifference toward the dark head of hair in front of him grated on his nerves. The hands around the slender wrists and mottled throat tightened reflexively. However, instead of fighting him, the slim figure before him seemed to melt into the hardness of his body. A moment later, the pressure of her cool cheek against the naked, heated skin of his chest and the telltale trickle of a residual tear along his collarbone left him feeling oddly empty.

It was disconcerting.

As a man, he was no stranger to the alluring curves of a woman's body or the warmth that such a body could bring. He was experienced in the calculated caresses and the true motives that usually accompanied the gentle touches.

This however felt altogether different. He could feel it, sense it on some basic human level.

She hated him, she had said as much moments ago. Vane would deny it with his next breath, but he knew the pain that she and her sister had suffered stemmed from his treatment. Yet why now did she seem to almost…he dropped the thought almost as soon as it began to form.

He stared. He could not see much of her face from his current vantage point, the delicate curve of her jaw and the generous sweep of dark lashes over her bruised cheek. The dark curtain of hair hid the rest of her face from view.

It was almost as though on some basic human level the girl was seeking comfort…from him of all people.

She sighed, so lightly that had she not been pressed against him he would have missed it. The slight exhalation prickling across his suddenly sensitive skin. Time seemed to slow, yet she did not move, did not fight the harsh embrace.

As though acting upon its own accord, his callused hand reached out and lightly brushed through the curtain of hair covering her bruised cheek. Washed and cleaned after weeks of neglect, the long strands rippled through his fingers like water.

At the slight sensation, a sharp sense of disgust spread through him. At who he was not entirely certain.

What the fuck was he doing?

Clenching his hand into a tight fist, Vane dug his short nails into his palms trying to extinguish the feeling of her hair ghosting through his fingertips.

Distantly he registered the protest of rusty hinges, the cacophony of multiple voices shouting at once. The sudden commotion in the room sounded far off, tempered, as though he was hearing it underwater.

In the space of a breath, sheer pandemonium erupted.

"What are you…?" A male voice trailed off.

"Stop it! Let my sister go!" Came a heightened, decidedly feminine shriek.

Vane shook his head in a physical attempt to shake the previous moments.

"Charles what in god's name are you doing?" charged Jack barging in through the back door, followed closely by Anne, Bellamy, and Ginny. All four had their eyes glued to the two figures against the far wall.

The girl started violently and shoved against his chest, attempting to extract herself from his embrace with a desperation that surprised even him.

"Let go." This time when the request came, it was firmer, and had lost its previous desperation. Yet, somehow, Kati could not manage to meet his eyes. At first, Vane did not budge, letting her know just how ineffective her struggles could be when matched against his strength.

But then, he slowly lowered his arms, freeing her from the cage of his body and the wall.

Just as he was dropping his arms, Vane felt a hard thump right between his shoulder blades. Turning quickly, he observed what could only be described as a golden haired sprite staring him down from her perch atop the large four-poster bed. The younger Miss Annesley towered over him in her too large nightgown, golden hair all a tumble standing on the edge of the large bed with a determined look on her young face. The second of a mismatched set of leather shoes held aloft in her small hands.

"You leave her alone or I'll hit you again!" As an added warning, the little bedraggled sprite cocked her arm back as if to let the second shoe fly.

The situation would have been comical had all the attention in the room not been focused squarely on him. "Anything else anyone would like to throw my way this evening?" He ground out.

Ginny jostled her way to the front of the group. "Get yer pawin 'ands off 'er! The las 'as been through enough." She was having none of him, his reputation be damned.

Sizing up the girl, Vane narrowed his eyes before turning to address the rest of his audience. "She was attempting an ill-conceived escape endeavor."

"Oi!" Ginny was truly riled, "what th' bleedin 'ell do you expect from 'er? Stuck with the likes of you!" To emphasize her point, she thrust a bonny finger against his chest.

Squaring his jaw and ignoring the bevy of enraged females Vane leveled his gaze coolly at his quartermaster. He, like Vane did not look like he had slept much the last twenty-four hours.

"Charles, what the fuck?" Jack spoke again, this time with less surprise. His tone more beseeching. With his windswept hair, face drawn into a tight frown, and the tails of his colorful coat flying Jack resembled more of an overblown nursemaid then his quartermaster.

Vane ignored him, still keeping one eye on the younger Miss Annesley, not entirely convinced she would not heft the shoe in his direction. "Is the wind in our favor?"

Jack sighed, gingerly rubbing at the back of his neck. "Aye. The men are back on board and our other…bodily problem is taken care of…as it were"

Sidestepping Ginny, who was still glaring at him, Vane missed the apprehensive look exchanged between both Jack and Anne.

"Charles, seein as I 'aspect you ta take better care a ye cargo, I've a taken it upon m'self ta aquire ya some of what ya be needin with ladies aboard." Vane gave the large, linen sack Bellamy deposited at his feet a cursory once over.

Anne arched an eyebrow at the grizzled sailor.

"Ahem, right proper _gentle_ ladies that 's," Bellamy clarified.

Despite the situation, Jack's lip curled up in an involuntary smirk trying to picture Anne in a proper dress and corset. In the strictly biological sense, he was well aware that Anne was a woman. However given the fact that he greatly appreciated his own male attributes and their current position on his person, he dared not comment on the implication that any and all said "ladies" required such rigid societal constructs.

"Oi! Just ye wait there ye old goat," said Ginny, shoving her finger back into Vane. "I don't right bloody care if yer the king of England or 'th good lord above, nothin gives ye the right 'a treat either of 'ese two 'a way ye did."

He was reasonably certain he'd have a bruise tomorrow. Vane observed the furious young woman coolly. At first, he had wondered what the grizzled sailor had seen in the young woman aside from her obvious and amble physical attributes. He had never known Samuel Bellamy to keep a woman for longer than a night. However, upon closer inspection, it was clear the girl was a force to be reckoned with. Few men would stand even with him. Fewer still would accuse him of blatant misconduct to his face. The deceptively sweet miss was the first person he had met who looked ready to box his ears for his transgressions.

He had no doubt that she would, if given such an opening.

Vane began to wonder if maybe it was the opposite and Bellamy was the lucky one. Having finally found a woman who could stand his equal.

Before he could reply to Ginny's accusation, a raspy cough sounded behind him. "It wasn't him." He had almost forgotten about the elder Annesley sister in the immediate commotion.

"Miss?" Ginny's gaze changed from one of accusation to concern.

Turning slightly, Vane glanced at the girl. The familiar steely determination had slipped back into place, cloaking the earlier signs of weakness. She stood tall and erect, with her shoulders back and her lips pressed into a severe line. He reflected briefly on her ability to change so quickly. From the square of her shoulders to the defiant tilt of her jaw, all trace of the supple, teary-eyed creature who had melted into his arms mere moments before was gone. If it had not been for the memory of silk brushing against his forearm, Vane would have believed he had imagined the brief interlude.

"It wasn't him," the girl repeated again. "The…" she paused coughing with a wince and reaching for her throat, "he, the man, who did this…he…he will not do so again…."

"Oh miss," Ginny whispered eyes widening slightly.

"I ensured it would be so."

Vane and the Kati exchanged a look that was missed by all except Jack who frowned.

Clearing his throat, Vane looked at Ginny, "as she has just indicated, no such situation will befall her again." Turning towards the door once more, Vane rolled his eyes skyward, praying to god that this time he would be able to walk through it without further interruption.

"Excuse me, Captain Vane," Kati said, as she gingerly continued to rub her neck. "But you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that my sister and I will now be accompanying you."

"Fucking hell." Vane straightened, his effortless grace reminding her of his raw vitality. "Miss Annesley, let me be clear, you will be accompanying me through that door if I have to hog tie you and your sister and drag you across this godforsaken island myself."

"No."

Vane stopped his progression towards the door for the third time that evening, turning to face her more fully.

Bellamy raised his bushy brows.

A vein slowly began to tick in Vane's jaw. "I'm sorry Miss Annesley, but I fear my hearing may be off."

"You heard me sir," she said softly though no less resolved.

The speculative gleam in his eyes deepened. "And how exactly do you intend on accomplishing such a feat?"

"Captain Bellamy," her beseeching gaze was winsome enough to melt a heart of stone.

"Not through him apparently..." The wayward thought almost made Vane chuckle.

Kati continued, "You are an intelligent man. I know that you know who we are, and as of now, I am sure that you are aware of the predicament in which my sister and I find ourselves. Additionally, the circumstances of our detention have been made more than clear. My father is a wealthy man, and if you help us, he _will_ make it worth your while. Of this, I have no doubt."

Bellamy sighed, his head beginning to throb. "I know of yer father lass, and as mucha, I wuld luv 'is gold ta line ma pockets, 'is not 'nuff in all 'e realm a make me cross old Georgie nor the 'gent a cross 'he..."

"ENOUGH!" Vane roared cutting off the older man and making Kati jump.

Kati could only gape at Bellamy. "What? King George? Sir…"

Vane was beside her in an instant, yanking her roughly in the door's general direction. "Jack, the sack. Anne, the little one." He was done making pronouncements; they were getting off this forsaken spit of sand now.

"Charles...a word" The voice of his quartermaster sounded oddly strangled.

"What." Vane ground out through clenched teeth.

Jack winced in anticipation of sharing the most damning bit of news he'd gleaned after accompanying the men back to _The Ranger_. Saying his Captain would not be pleased was an understatement. "Ahem…there is a generally recognized belief among the men that…well it seems as though…what I mean to say is that…"

If looks could kill Jack would without a doubt be dead. Of that, he was unequivocally certain. "It would seem that congratulations are in order."

"Come. Again." Silence so thick punctuated each word that Jack was sure he would be able to hear a pin drop.

"Ah, it would appear that our good country doctor was neigh more talkative this last evening then intended after patching up our two captives….errr….ladies. Which has resulted in ah, some of the men ascribing to the mindset that your circumstances have now been irrevocably altered in the state of, um, ah, the union of two persons…coming together…in ah…" At the last pronouncement Jack seemed to lose steam.

"Oh for gods sake, put him out of my misery," Anne whispered to no one in particular.

"Out with it!" Vane had gone eerily quiet, like the calm before a particularly violent storm.

"Good lord," Ginny whispered covering a hand over her mouth.

It took Bellamy a moment; however, he soon cracked a grin that grew into a chortle, which turned into a fully bellied laugh. Soon tears of mirth were leaking from the old man's eyes quicker than he could wipe them away.

Jack looked as though he was going to be physically ill.

Anne reached into the folds of her doublet, searching for her worn flask.

"What?" Kati was observing the group with a sickening sense of dread. No one would meet her eyes.

"Ahem, Miss Annesley, "it would appear that congratulations are in order." Jack said with a grimace. "Or um, Mrs….as it where…"

Kati blinked up at him then, reminding him distinctly of a befuddled owl.

"Oi!" Bellamy barked out between laughs. "Condolences, more like, Charles it 'eems ye 'ave got yerself leg-shackled to a' child bride."

The room went silent.

Bellamy continued to chuckle. "Yer young, 'ardly in your dotage yet. I should a think yer'd 'ave ta stamina a satisfy 'er."

"Jack." The single syllable conveyed more menace than any weapon ever could.

Jack gingerly stuck a finger through the silken sash tied lightly at his throat, the colored fabric reminding him suddenly of muscled fingers. "Charles, the men are under the impression that you've recently taken a wife."


End file.
